


Saturday Morning Sentai

by Phylix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Brotherly Bonding, College AU, Eventual Sex, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hanzo is an emotional mess, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Mystery Man McCree, Omnic Racism, Sentai Genji Shimada, Sibling Rivalry, Slow Burn, Super Sentai, robo snuggles, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-03 16:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 151,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylix/pseuds/Phylix
Summary: They say it is hard to go back, but when Genji returns to the city he grew up in, trying to solve the mystery of what happened to his foster family while trying to maintain the broken relationship with his brother, he finds that it is nearly impossible.  Throw on top of that a strange gorilla from the moon with the mythical power of the Sentai Warrior and Genji can feel his life spiraling out of his control. It is only when he befriends a local monk that Genji begins to find balance in his lifeAt the same time, Hanzo struggles with keeping everything together. Between hiding his own dark past from his brother while trying to find a way to make ends meet, Hanzo grips tight to normalcy and control. What is he to do when he is forced back into a life he does not want?How does one stay a normal person all while leading a dangerous double life?





	1. An Unnatural Phenomena

**Author's Note:**

> So this is that Sentai AU story that everyone is doing with my own twist! I do plan on having some eventual romance in here, because what good is a super hero story without some romance? Plus, superheroes are fun. And this is going to have very silly elements to it, because, damn it, how else will I be able to fit the weirdness of Overwatch into a superhero story without having fun at characters (Winston's) expence?

The small cardboard box landed with a dull thud as Genji dropped it unceremoniously on the counter with the other boxes that the younger Shimada had carried in previously. Downstairs, double parked in the alley was the rental van, filled to the brim with every possession the two brothers owned, and somehow it still fell to Genji to be the only one walking up the flight of stairs with the boxes to their newly acquired apartment.

He stopped and leaned against the bare countertop and wiped the sweat that had gathered there as he looked around their new home. No, not home. This was not a home. Homes were filled with light and laughter and loved. This was an apartment. A living space. Not a home.

The place was not spacious. It was a tight fit. It was perfect for the older Shimada’s newest capitalist venture, an antique shop that sat just below the apartment and, Genji wondered, would have more space than this dump. 

The kitchen was tiny, not that it really mattered to either brother. They both were hopeless when it came to culinary enterprises that were more involved than pulling back cellophane from a frozen meal and microwaving it for several minutes. The stove was an old, black faced thing with dials against the back panel and spiral heating units on top. The fridge was fitted into the wall slot poorly and jutted out. He had already learned that if he tried to open it too fast, the door would bang against the adjourning wall and the thing made a terrible screeching noise as the freezing mechanism in it powered up. He wondered if it was even capable of freezing water into ice. There was no dishwasher, instead, it had dual sinks, one was deep for soaking and the other, for some unknown reason, only was three inches deep. The countertops themselves were yellowed like the walls, originally some awful tanned color that was possibly fashionable some decades before. Mostly it was tight. 

Genji looked at the latest box he had brought in and wondered if he could take a break from stairs by unpacking or if it was just in his best interest to get everything inside.

“We need to return the van in an hour,” Hanzo kicked the apartment door open with his foot, two boxes stacked on one another in his arms. “Hurry up Genji, or it will cost us another hundred dollars to rent.”

Genji rolled his eyes wide and brushed past his brother without a comment. He couldn’t comment. Hanzo had made it very clear he had nothing to complain about the entire drive to this shithole apartment. For the past three years, Genji had put up with Hanzo’s absurdities. He had lived in an equally shitty apartment. He took on mundane, cheap work all through high school and even had to pull extra shifts to get Hanzo through college and himself through high school with a degree. 

Hanzo had made him one promise the day he moved into that shitty apartment, the second he had graduated college, and Genji graduated high school, he would move them to whatever city Genji wanted for college himself. Hanzo promised to give him whatever education he wanted, and that promise was the sole thing that kept the orphan going. Some day he could go home. He just had to be patient. 

Genji’s feet fell hard on the stairs as he grabbed another box and began to pile them in the foyer. “Brother!” He called up the fire escape. “If I get them here, you can take the van back!” 

The window opened with a loud crack as the frame hit the top of the window and Hanzo leaned out. “Fool! Anyone could steal our possessions then!”

Genji turned and looked at the van, the back doors sitting wide open to the world, “Who the fuck would want your shit.” He retorted, “It’s just shitty teas and crappy books on accounting.” He carried another box just inside the door and dropped it onto the previous cardboard box which caused it to bow. Genji smirked as he saw Hanzo’s ears going red before he retreated back into the apartment. Serves him right, Genji thought as he moved to get another box.

“Watch what you are doing!” Hanzo’s form galloped down the stairs, taking them two at a time. “You will break things! Some of that is merchandise to sell!”

Genji rolled his eyes dramatically as he lifted another box up, “Oh brother, I am so sorry that I crushed your precious pillows. Please, will you ever forgive me.”

Hanzo brought the palms of his hands to his eyes rubbed hard circles until he saw stars. “Genji, this is a new start. Please, I don’t want a fight.”

“You don’t want a fight in the alley where the neighbors can see,” Genji corrected. “If we were upstairs or still driving, it would be a two-hour lecture. Just get the boxes into the alley, I will take them up and you can keep your precious extra hour of the rental fee.” He waved his hands.

Hanzo opened his mouth to retort and, for once in the known universe, he stopped. He turned and collected a box and carried it upstairs, into the apartment.

Genji let out a loud sigh as he continued to move boxes, Hanzo taking the ones from the foyer upstairs while Genji stacked them in the alley way. A small voice in the back of his mind told him that he was being unfair. That Hanzo had sacrificed to make this move for Genji. He had left a decently paying warehouse job to come here with him, but the anger in him for his brother still burned.

Genji was insistent about moving here, to this city. His home. Westedge Harbor. He was also insistent in moving into the dormitories and acting like some normal college student doing normal things and getting a normal degree. Mostly he wanted to be away from his asshole brother. But Hanzo insisted that this was the cheaper alternative. Live in the city, several blocks away from campus. Genji could take the bus in the mornings and come back and work at the store in the evenings. All Hanzo’s idea. 

“That it?” Hanzo panted as he sat on the bottom step of the stairwell, sweat dripped down his forehead, a can of soda in his hand. He held it out for Genji. 

Genji panted and fell onto the step next to him and nodded. “It’s all out of the van,” He nodded and gulped deeply of the sugary drink. “I’ll stay here and take it up. You return the van.”

Hanzo nodded. “Thank you, Genji.” He reached over and ruffled the neon green hair and he pulled himself up. Genji took another long drink from the soda in his hand as he watched Hanzo drive off with the van. Slowly, he worked on bringing the remaining boxes up the stairs and into the apartment. 

Two small end tables were the only pieces of furniture in the whole place, Genji found. At least there were two bedrooms, both seemed more like closets than rooms. Genji began to stack his own things in the larger of the two rooms and shoved Hanzo’s books into the second, marginally smaller, room.

The hour passed as Genji fiddled with the boxes, sort of unpacking the ones for the kitchen and placed plates and bowls into cupboards and wondering briefly how long they would exist in this space before needing to repack them. It seemed to be the story of his life, living month to month in backpacks, traveling from dysfunctional home to dysfunctional home. He was twelve when he finally got into a stable home. Then Hanzo came waltzing back into his life like a tyrant. He slammed the cupboard shut tight and took a deep breath, trying to remember what the counselor had told him about controlling his anger through his breathing. He failed.

He abandoned his place in the kitchen for the living room, instead, he decided to unpack the picture frames. Pictures of holidays long past when they were both small children with their parents, Genji as a chubby baby squirming out of the grip of Hanzo, as stoic as ever. Genji sighed as he set the frame up on the counter. Hanzo never photographed happy. If he himself had not witnessed laughter emit from Hanzo's mouth, he would have assumed the man did not know how to be jubilant. 

Another photo came out of the box. Genji sat on the ground, cross-legged and held the black frame in his hand. A large crease ran through the middle of this photo, separating the figures in the picture. Two men sat in a park, a scrawny pre-teen sat between them, giving the camera a toothy grin. Genji smiled and ran a finger down the side, finding himself getting lost in memories of a family that no longer was.

He snapped out of his daze as his stomach rumbled in protest, reminding him that the last thing he ate was a box of plain Triscuits in the van. They had been dry and crumbly and had given Hanzo another reason to chastise him for making a mess.

Genji set the photo frame on the counter with the others and went to find the plastic bag full of food from the van. If memory served him, the box of Triscuits was the last available thing to eat as Hanzo firmly stated they did not have time to get off the interstate to find a drive through. Hanzo had his very set schedule of events that must not deviate from the timeline of events. Ten minutes was too much to ask for when it came to a piss break even.

Genji relented when he found nothing but trash in every one of the food bags. Curse his stomach and the constant need to snack. He pulled out his wallet to find two crisp dollar bills and a handful of pennies. He used the last of his cash earlier on buying a case of Mountain Dew, half of which Hanzo drank while complaining about the taste. He was, once again, at the will of his brother and forced to wait for his return before he would be allowed to eat.

Setting up the television was the next priority on his list. He could not stand another night of silence or to listen to Hanzo complain about how Genji did nothing but waste time playing some silly online card game. While Hanzo balked at the notion of just being lazy and watching television, the local news at least peaked his interest enough to keep him from commenting on Genji. He was in the middle of setting up the cables in the back when he heard the first flood door slam shut. “Hanzo!” He called, hearing his stomach rumble again, this time more definitely. “We don’t have any food!”

He was unsurprised when the door opened silently, never once hearing Hanzo climb the stairs or insert the key. “That door down there needs to be slammed to shut,” Hanzo grumbled as he shut and locked the door. In his arms were three plastic bags. “Sorry, it took so long. The asshole at the rental place was trying to convince me that we dented the side of the van. There was no dent.”

“Asshole,” Genji parroted, looking at the bags and catching a wafting scent of something spicy. His mouth began to water as he watched Hanzo move into the kitchen and meticulously take out two take out bowls with lids and three white Styrofoam containers from two of the bags. The third sat on the counter, untouched. 

Hanzo looked up. “Next door to us is a noodle place,” He explained. “I know we didn’t have anything to eat at all today. I thought we bought more provisions before we left.” He moved over to the center of the room and set the bowls on the floor with the containers.

Genji slinked out from the back of the television and sat cross legged next to the food. “Noodles?” He asked.

Hanzo handed him chopsticks and took the cover off his own bowl. “Noodles. An assortment of dishes, but I saw Udon and Ramen on the menu, next to mac and cheese and penne rosa.” He shrugged. “It looked pretty generic but,” He cut himself off, stirring his udon and gave a weak shrug. “I know you miss having good ramen.”

Genji picked up his own bowl and opened it, looking down at the noodles. “It smells good,” he ventured before looking back at the unopened styrofoam boxes. “What’s in there.”

Hanzo pointed to one, “Pork Potstickers and,” He pointed to the other “Swedish meatballs.” He smiled a little. “Nothing says classic Japanese cuisine much like Chinese takeout and Scandinavian meat.” The color rose on his cheeks. “I must admit, I think I was a little more ambitious than I should have been.”

Genji tore into the potstickers devouring three before going back to his ramen, shaking his head. “Oh God, this gives me life,” He moaned out.

Hanzo looked down and gave a weak smile as he silently ate his own dinner. Genji continued to messily devour his meal, taking up meatballs and eating a majority of the food. The only sound that fell between them was the clink of chopsticks and the squeak of the foam bending. “I will have to contact the landlord tomorrow,” He said after a time, breaking the silence that fell between them.

Genji raised an eyebrow as he noisily slurped his ramen.

Hanzo continued. “When I went to get dinner, I parked on the corner out front. I was already on the main road and there was a spot open just under where it says ‘Noodles’ so I figured it was easier than parking and walking around the block.”

Genji nodded, lifting the bowl up and drinking the broth. Hanzo continued. “I went to open the front door and found it locked and the store dark. But there were a ton of cars just a little further down and the lights were on in the store next to it.”

Genji shrugged. “So there are two identical restaurants next to each other and one is closed?”

Hanzo shook his head. “No! There is only one. Their sign hangs over the surrounding business it is so large!”

“So why contact the landlord. Who cares?”

“It hangs over our business. It looks like the shop is a noodle restaurant.”

Genji swallowed the last of his dinner and leaned back, “So what? We will get more foot traffic. Hey, let's get food, oops, it’s a creepy Asian themed antique shop. Let’s come back after we eat. So many dragons.”

Hanzo’s face was flat. “If someone is actually looking for the shop, they would not find it. We just have a window nameplate. They have an awning that displays their shop name.” He shook his head, “Be serious, Genji. This is our livelihood now.”

Genji pursed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Mmm, one of your former warehouse buddies happened to know a guy selling a shitty antique shop that you happened to buy so we could move here so I could go to school.”

“It is a regular antique shop as well, not ‘asian themed’, as you call it,” Hanzo picked up the last meatball and promptly chewed and swallowed it before continuing. “There is probably just old furniture and junk. People love reclaimed furniture. We could make sure it looks nice and resell it as vintage to make a killing. It is a market, especially in this neighborhood.”

Genji smirked, “If you had it your way there would be shitty dragons everywhere in that store. Big ones, jade ones, small ones, medieval ones. Just admit it, dude, you are one of those creepy dudes that collect dragons and wear the three wolf moon shirts. You try to hide it, but you are such a dweeb.”

Hanzo smirked, “Dragons at least have an interesting history and culture surrounding them. Tell me again about the Naruto dolls-”

“Statues!” Genji laughed. “They are not toys to play with!”

“They are plastic and posable, and I know you talk to them. ‘Oh, Sauske-Umph!” Hanzo was cut off as Genji whopped him in the face with a stray pillow before he burst into laughter. “No no! Sakura! My girlfriend! If only you were real!” He kicked out his foot and fell to his back, holding Genji at bay as he continued to fling his pillow weapon around.

Genji snorted and fell back to the ground, “Oh look, he does have a sense of humor. I am shocked.”

Hanzo righted himself up, his hair had fallen out of the perfect binding, “I do when you aren’t being a little shit.” He moved to pick up the remnants of the dinner and tsked as he saw some of the spilled broth from the Udon. “Genji, look at that. Go get a rag and clean up your mess.”

He rolled his eyes as he headed to find the bathroom, wondering if towels were placed in there. He came back to find Hanzo on his knees, already pressing a napkin into the carpet. “Must he be so irresponsible,” Hanzo grumbled under his breath, low enough so not to be heard, but Genji caught it. 

Genji stepped over him and flipped on the tv. Any type of conversation that was civil would be finished now if either of them spoke another word, Genji knew. They would spend the rest of the evening sitting in front of the local news in uncomfortable silence, waiting for enough time to pass before it was acceptable for either of them to retire to their own rooms. 

“In other news,” The television stated, “A recent string of jewelry store robberies has authorities looking for leads. The third store, specializing in handcrafted Numbanian diamonds, was robbed late last night, leaving the owners of the store at a loss for words.”

The screen changed, showing an older couple standing stoically and holding hands as the police officer, a woman with shocking pink hair, spoke. “We are currently looking into this as an independent robbery and it appears to be in no way connected to the other robberies in the area. We are asking for local businesses to stay vigilant and to report any suspicious behaviors they have witnessed.”

The report cut back to the anchor, “This is the third robbery this month.”

Genji snorted and shook his head. “Are you fucking kidding me. Robbing a small business like that. Some people are trash.”

Hanzo hummed in agreement, settling his back against the far wall. “I wonder why they don’t think this one is related. Why would it be different?”

Genji shrugged, “Different Modus Operandi? Maybe they have them on a recording. Who knows. They only give you like, a quarter of the details anyway.” He pulled out his tablet and got logged into his card game, half paying attention to the rest of the news. A local monastery was vandalized, a wake was being held in honor of a fallen hero, schools were being asked to cut back on breakfast programs in the upcoming school year. All sad things. Genji sighed and tried to block it out. Why would anyone want to watch something so depressing as real life? People seemed cruel and selfish on the news. They chose to not report on the good things happening in the community because people could not care less about the good in the world.

Like Hanzo. He relished in watching these reports. It proved his point on why people were, at their core, selfish and awful. Genji had a hard time believing that himself. Some people were awful, but as a whole, humans had one goal in mind, and that was to be happy and to take care of their families.

Hanzo grunted as the reports turned to local sports and stood, stretching his back out, “I promise tomorrow to go looking for furniture.” His back popped in several placed. “I’ll do that after I get you dropped off at the campus.”

Genji looked up from his tablet. “Drop me off? No. I get the car.”

“There is one car. I have to get the shop set up and look for furniture. You have a choice, I drop you off in my car, or you can take the city bus.”

Genji groaned. He could feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head as Hanzo spoke, which would just infuriate the older man more. “The bus? Oh, come on, Hanzo. You told me I would be able to come and go as I want, as a normal college student. You said I could.”

“I said nothing about the car!” Hanzo stated, tying up the bag of trash. “The car is mine, I need it to make money so you can go to college.”

Genji was on his feet, clutching the tablet tight in his hand. “You said I could. You were the one to insist I shouldn’t live on campus. You said this would be better for me. You have been making all these decisions. No. I am done.” He turned on his heel and stalked into the room. “I am driving myself to campus, registering the car in my name and getting a parking pass! You just have to walk downstairs to get to work!”

“Do not raise your voice at me,” Hanzo warned, shooting his brother a cold stare.

“Or what, Dad?” Hanzo’s shoulders stiffened and his jaw clenched as he went still from his brother’s comment. Genji smirked in triumph and leaned against the wall. “What, no clever retort this time?”

Hanzo turned and grabbed his keys, clutching the small bag of trash in his hand tightly as he stalked out the door, slamming it behind him. Genji stalked into his own bedroom, slamming the door properly before settling down on the pile of blankets. A makeshift bed for himself.

Sleep would not come to him tonight, he knew. Strange sounds of the city and having no mattress would be enough to keep him up, regardless of his own anger. He crossed his arms over his chest and could hear through the thin pane of glass Hanzo in the alley way, pacing up and down and throwing out curses in Japanese directed at Genji.

Good. Let him be mad. If Genji couldn’t sleep, neither should Hanzo.

\--------------

The shrill chimes of a once favorite song flooded Genji’s room, pulling his out of the haze of the half sleep state he had found himself in. He slammed his hand against his phone, silencing the damn noise before letting the ache settle into his bones. Days of sitting in the car mixed with the hardness finally caught up with him.

He smacked his dry lips and rummaged in his backpack for his toiletry bag before standing and heading to the bathroom for his morning grooming rituals and get his head screwed on right. He was sleep deprived and could not remember a time that he woke up this sore.

Today was freshman orientation. Orientation was at nine.

He took the hour to shower, dress, and style himself in his room before heading into the main room, slipping on a pair of gold, reflective sunglasses. He had to look good today, make a good impression on other students. That night he gave himself a brand new goal: get out of this place as often as possible.

He stopped by the bathroom mirror one final time to look himself over. His clothes were great, tight black jeans, loose tank top with the arms open wide, nearly indecent, but still gave anyone a good side view of his well toned chest, crisp green sneakers (off brand knock off shit, but unless you looked for a logo, you would never know) and a black headband. His neon green hair was spiked up and coiffed perfectly. A thin chain hung from the cartilage piercing in the tip of his ear and connected down to one of the lower piercings. He would admit, he did kind of look like a douchebag, but damn he was pretty and that is all that really mattered at this point. His goal was not to make friends at college, but to find himself a bed. 

He didn’t bother to call out to his brother as he made his way to the kitchen, hoping Hanzo was considerate enough to leave out bus fare for him. A crisp, white note sat folded on the counter, the car keys sitting next to them.

‘I have a lot of work in the shop. Take the car. Breakfast is on the counter.

Hanzo’

Genji crumpled the note, grabbed the keys and the plastic bag that promised breakfast before shouldering his backpack and heading out.

\-----------

Hanzo sighed and stood in the entryway of the dusty shop. His dusty shop. He was sold the business through a friend of a co-worker. Hanzo had put in his notice of leaving months beforehand. His hope was that the company would have another warehouse or could give him recommendations for places he could work or live while Genji went to college. John, another night mover, was the one to mention some friends of his who owned a vintage shop were looking to retire and move south.

They owned the business for the past twenty years. It was an established antique shop. Hanzo exchanged emails and phone calls with the couple. The whole affair felt serendipitous and Hanzo jumped at the chance, buying out the lease for both the shop and apartment sight unseen. He was a clever man. He knew that an established shop would already have an established customers.

He was an idiot. 

His first sign of trouble should have come when he saw the massive sign that hung over his store. But it wasn’t.

Hanzo stepped into the store and groped along the wall for the lights Cardboard lined the windows, blocking out a street view inside the store, but it also cast the entire store in shadow. His hand found the switch and overhead lights buzzed to life. 

The store was claustrophobic, to say the least. The shop front was a mess of scattered tables jigsawed into the space in such a way that would leave any customers enough room to maneuver between the wares, but tight enough that any customer that wasn’t petite would not be able to twist without knocking into something. Milk crates were stacked on top of the tables with particle board to build up rickety shelves that towered near the ceiling. And the shelves were jam packed with junk, trinkets, baubles and other curios that leaned to the gaudy side of Asian flair. The whole damn place radiated jade green and gold. Fuck, Genji was right. He was the owner of a creepy Asian antique store. He could hear the relentless teasing now.

He shuttered at the thought.

Hanzo ran a hand over his face as he took in the wares. The previous owners had an unquestionable aesthetic; one that certainly did not jive with Hanzo’s sensibilities. Overall, it was just...tacky. Nothing was disrespectful or offensive, it was just cheaply made antiques would look right at home in some terrible small town Chinese restaurant. Tacky and expected.

Hanzo maneuvered his way through the cluttered mess, taking stock in what should be cleaned and polished for sale and what should be tossed in the dumpster. Most of it was trash. He would have to have Genji come down and help him clear this out. It was just too big of a mess. Hanzo at least hoped Genji would comply.

His phone buzzed. Hanzo sighed and pulled it out to find a selfie from his brother. Genji stood in front of a brick building that had ivy clinging to the sides. Genji’s shocking green hair was slicked back and he made a rude gesture at the camera. A bun hung out of his mouth.

‘YOU FOUND RED BEAN BUNS!!!’

A smile crossed his face and he shook his head. Genji was easy to placate. Especially when food was involved. He sent back a quick reply before he gripped the door handle to the back room and pushed.

Hanzo grunted as it was met with resistance. Something was blocking the door from opening fully. He cursed and shoved harder, hearing the something scrape heavily against the concrete floor, but it opened a crack. He took his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the dark room.

He let out another string of curses as he saw a wooden piece of furniture as the culprit of the blocked door. It had obviously fallen on its side. As for the rest of the back room, he could not see anything through the darkness. A wave of must and mold hit him, immediately clogging up his sinuses. Whatever problems the storefront had, the back room was worse. So much worse.

Hanzo set the phone on the counter and braced himself, shoving his shoulder into the door with all his strength. The wooden mass made a loud scraping noise as it was forcibly moved, followed by the shattering of glass.

Hanzo cursed again and again. Whatever it was that smashed, it was garbage now. He slammed his weight into the door again. Finally, the obstruction relented and the door swung open as Hanzo crashed lost his balance and crashed to the ground. Pain shot up his arm as he felt glass tear into his left palm. His mind hardly had time to register it as the room filled with blue light, blinding him and then…

Darkness.

*********

Genji snapped another picture to send to his brother as he finished his breakfast. Hanzo was a brat, that was sure, but damn it, he could not say mad when Hanzo went out of his way to get him his favorite snacks.

He shifted his bag to his other shoulder and headed down to the quad. Freshman orientation was going to start at nine. Hanzo brought him the previous fall to do a tour, but that was his last time stepping foot on campus. He tried talking his way out of the tour, but Hanzo had put his foot down. He may not be living or eating on campus, but he damn well better know where the library was. Libraries, Genji had retorted, were useless in the advent of the internet and were the last hold of a bygone era. It was useless arguing with a brick wall, so here he was, the day before classes officially started, standing around with a bunch of people his own age who were able to have the normal college experience.

He was planning on ducking out when he became boring. They were stuck in the middle of a city and there were plenty of things more educating than college out there. He slipped the golden sunglasses on and took the concrete stairs two at a time. There were things he wanted to see and remember that did not involve being stuck here.

There were already tables set up with different clubs and organizations trying to entice freshman to join: a Capella groups, comic book alliance, anime club, bands, and sports were the most prominent. He looked around, joining a club would be a good cover for staying out late. Hanzo always did want him to be more social in a socially acceptable way. He randomly grabbed a few colorful pamphlets and ducked away from the happy-go-lucky representatives who tried to chat him up with a shrug and mention of orientation.

He made a grab for a printed rainbow pamphlet when he found his way blocked by a petite, solid figure with a cheerful disposition. “Hello! Looking to join?”

Genji took the woman in front of him in. She was young, not much older than him, with short brown hair and a winning smile. He liked her instantly. He removed his glasses and tried to match with a smile of his own. “Just kind of grabbing a little bit of everything now, Freshman orientation is at nine and I can’t be late.”

“Won’t keep you, but we are always looking for a helping hand. Especially now.” She reached down to the table next to her and snatched up a newspaper and he saw her gearing up to go into her rehearsed speech.

“A couple of days ago the local monastery was vandalized. It is a well-known fact that there are plenty of people in this town who are very anti-omnic, but this order of monks has become a staple in the community. We are trying to get a group together to go out there and clean the place up for them. The Shambali are a kind order of monks and it is our civic duty to help them any way we can.”

Genji looked at the pamphlet in his hand. “So this is, like, a civic duty club?” he flipped it over and looked at the picture of the omnic monks standing in a row. Their impassive faces gave most people an uneasy feeling. Not being able to read facial features was very off putting to many people. “So what happened?”

“Three nights ago someone broke into the monastery and spray painted the walls with derogatory statements and images. The police were called but there weren't any leads and there have been those robberies lately so no one had been able to help the monks out. I want to get a group together to go over and scrub the place up all spick and span.”

Genji nodded, “When are you heading over there?”

“This afternoon at one. Right after freshman orientation lunch. I am hoping to get more freshman to go. A lot of sports and classes require some community service so I am trying to get that crowd,” She held out her hand. “Lena Oxton. Nice to make your acquaintance.” 

Genji smiled while he took her hand and gave it a firm shake as he introduced himself. He continued on his way to the middle of the quad where a large group of students waited for the tour. He pulled out the pamphlet and looked again at the omnics. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to his brother, telling him he would be home late.

He smiled and headed with the group, not listening as the cheerful upperclassman explained the functions of the different buildings around the quad. He looked at his phone, expecting a text from Hanzo telling him to come home right after he finished.

Still nothing.

The tour started to walk. Genji lagged behind, uninterested in everything this college held for him. Besides, he knew the campus already. He remembered coming here as a boy and being allowed to wander to his heart’s content through the green quad. His older foster brother would watch over him and take him different places during the summer. His foster father, Jack, had been a professor here then.

When Hanzo first took him back, Genji spent hours emailing and begging to be brought back to no avail. The agency would respond with curtailed letters informing him on the benefits of living with a blood relative. Jack was more kind in his letters. Hanzo loved him, that is why he wanted him back. That is why Jack did not fight when it was time for him to go. It did not mean that he was loved any less, just that sometimes what is best is sometimes hard.

Then the emails stopped.

Genji called the college after two months of no contact. He remembered the woman on the phone growing silent as he asked about Jack. That was when he knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. Her words became a blur, the sentences not registering.

Accident.

Gone. Jack was gone.

Genji shook his head, clearing those memories away. He came here to get answers, not dwell on the pain. He needed the closure. Needed to find his family. Needed to know what happened.

There was an ice cream parlor on the corner. It was the first place his foster parents brought him. They picked up this terrified little boy from the agency and brought him there. He had spent weeks bouncing from hospitals to temporary beds, awaiting a time when someone would get him. Someone would save him.

And they did. They were love and warmth. He lived with them for four good years. His small, broken family of two fathers and a drug dealing foster brother. There, he was protected and secure….

Then Hanzo turned eighteen and snatched him away.

Genji ducked away as the guide led the group into the cafeteria and explained meal plans and dinner hours. He did not need to hear any more. Ten minutes on the tour would give him more than enough to talk about for Hanzo. He dipped his hands deep into his pockets and set his shoulders as he headed to the busy streets. The sounds of traffic washed over him as he stepped past the sound barrier of a brick wall and was enough to drown out the memories of his childhood. He wanted to find that ice cream parlor.

He walked down the block, his eyes to the billboards, looking for clues to where he was. He was fourteen the last time he had walked these streets, a decade ago. Things could not have changed that much, he figured. Artwork and shops had to be the same as before. Many things were different. He used to track the locations by the advertisements on the street poles. He knew to turn at the bright red signs that advertised piano lessons. Today though, he could not see the bright red signs.

A broad smile crossed his face as he turned a corner and saw the green awning of the corner deli. Memories flooded back to him about lunches there-Ham on white with mayo, tomato, and spicy brown mustard. It was the same thing his foster brother would get. He hated the mustard, but always got it regardless. The ice cream shop was near. They would stop by after and pick up some dessert while waiting for classes to end for the day. He always liked the lavender and honey. Jess would get the bourbon and vanilla. He never had anything that tasted quite so good.

He jogged across the street and into an alley. It was the short cut. He spared another glance at his phone, still no reply from Hanzo. His brother must be in deep with that store, not that Genji minded at all. He was thrilled to not have to hear an immediate no. he shoved his phone deep into his pocket again. Half past ten. He could get an ice cream, check out more of the neighborhood, then be back to help Lena with the cleanup. 

The monastery was a nice place. He had only been once, back when it was still run by human monks. He was more interested in the girl, Lena. She had a real mind about her when it came to justice it seemed. He wondered if he could get some information from her about the accident. All his researching came up with nothing. He turned into another alley, recognizing the painted mural on the wall of the building in front of him.

“Genji Shimada,” came a deep voice from behind. Genji turned on heel, his fists raised up, ready to protect himself. He found an empty alley. He was alone. Quickly, his eyes darted around to look for the source of the voice. People passed on the street, all moving too quickly and too far away to be the voice. Pigeons cooed and pecked at discarded food in the bins. Some of the fire escapes held small potted plants, but nothing more. No one was in that alley with him.

He relaxed a fraction, dropping his fists to his sides, but kept his shoulders tense, “Who is there? How do you know my name?”

There was no reply. Genji slipped the backpack onto both shoulders and took a step back. The busy street suddenly felt menacing. How did anyone know his name? He took another step back and turned, taking off at a brisk pace. It would be a comfort to be on the street, where people existed and voices did not come out of the walls. 

“Chill,” He said to himself. “You lived here before. Maybe somebody recognized you. A decade later. With neon green hair.” His eyes darted around as he turned another corner. He felt dizzy in these thin streets. Lost.

Genji walked faster. Genji felt ice in his veins as behind him he could hear muffled movements as if whoever it was, was trying to not get caught. And they were gaining on him. Quick.

“Genji Shimada, Stop.” The voice ordered, this time louder. More menacing. A deep rumbling voice. “You have a great destiny. The world needs you.”

Slowly, Genji turned. He awaited the monster that lurked in the alley, ready to attack and defend himself if need be. Again, he found….nothing.

His eyes darted, looking at the fire escapes to the large dumpsters, not finding anyone...or anything. 

Then he heard the throat clear. His eyes darted straight down. Sitting at his feet was a gorilla. An honest to god gorilla. The size of a housecat. Staring at him. Wearing a tiny, white space suit and a tiny pair of glasses.

“Monkey?”

“Gorilla,” the gorilla corrected. 

Genji stepped back, eyes fixated on the creature sitting in front of him. The gorilla spoke. It spoke. It spoke human speak. His mind reeled. He tried to remember. Did he take any drugs? When was the last time he took drugs? How was this possible? Was he dying?

The gorilla raised a hand (paw? fist?) and cleared his throat before he continued, “My name is Winston and I have been searching for you for a very long time. You are the chosen one and I have been sent here to help for on the path to your ultimate destiny. I was not sure at first, but seeing you standing there, in front of me I know. You feel it, don’t you? Terrible things have been happening in this world. Things you cannot explain but you know they are wrong. You can feel it. It is your destiny to save the world. You are the Sentai.”


	2. No Monkey Business!: Genji's mysterious transformation

Stars floated in front of his eyes as the waking world crashed into Hanzo. He groaned and lifted a hand to his head as he blinked a few times, trying to get the world to focus. There had been a blue light. Then it all went dark.

His senses came back to him, his body was shaky, he did not trust himself to move, but he did not have to. Not really. He was seated, his back against the counter. The backroom door sat open a few feet away, still dark.

He swallowed and licked his dry lips.

“Hey now, don’t cha’ move,” came a voice to his side. Something cool was placed on top of his head as he looked to the source of the voice. A young man knelt next to him, around his own age with honeyed eyes. Hanzo opened his mouth to speak.

“No no,” the man plopped down and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Dun move. Dun talk until you are ready. Ya had a nasty shock there.”

A smile passed over the stranger’s lips. Hanzo took in his features slowly. The man had sun kissed skin and a light dotting of freckles across his nose that were almost completely faded. His hair was unkempt, longer than probably intended and swept out of his face almost haphazardly with a matching, unkempt beard. Hanzo groaned and rubbed his temple, trying to reconnect his brain and his body. “Who-?” He managed.

“Jesse McCree,” The man said, reaching out and taking his left hand. “You were lucky, partner. I just on a smoke break in the alley when I heard the scuffle in here.”

“Scuffle?”

“Yeah. I came in, thinking there was a break-in, and boy howdy, I found you over there on the floor and two fellers stuffing things into bags.”

Hanzo paled, “What?” He jumped to his feet and stood straight up, looking at his store. His head spun as the blood rushed away. His face tingled. A table had been knocked over, everything on it appeared shattered.

An arm came around his middle and led him slowly back to the floor. “Hey now, you’re ok. You are safe. Sit.” Hanzo followed the order and sat back down. “I called the police, they will be here in a few. I got a pretty good look at them and I can give a description to the cops. Were they here when you got here? Did they sneak up on you?”

Hanzo shook his head. No one ever snuck up on him. He would have heard thieves. His mind focused. Blue light. Blue light. “I think I fell.” He admitted. “The back room was stuck. I was trying to open the door.” What time was it? He reached up, onto the counter and groped for his phone. 

Jesse sat up on his haunches and reached over Hanzo. He squatted back down and handed him the phone. “I said rest. You were out cold there. Probably hit your head.”

Hanzo looked down at his hands. His left one was bandaged in gauze. “No, I fell into the room and caught myself. I cut my hand on the glass, I think. Then there was this light,” He trailed off. “Maybe I hit my head.”

“Either way I got in here and you were out like a light,” He rubbed Hanzo’s shoulders. “There ya are, yer getting some good color back.”

“Who are you?” Hanzo asked again.

That brilliant smile returned. “Jesse McCree.”

“Yes, besides your name. Why were you in my alley?”

He let out a bark of laughter. “It is your alley now, is it? I was working a job across the street.” He took Hanzo’s left hand into his and began to slowly rotate his wrist. “This hurt?”

Hanzo shook his head. “You are a short order cook at that terrible smelling burger place?”

Jesse scoffed, “Those burgers are amazing, I’ll have you know. And no. I’m working on some building maintenance. These old buildings are right falling apart without someone like me. I’m a bit of a jack-of-all trades.” He winked.

“Handy Man,” Hanzo nodded.

“Construction, plumbing, roofing, car repair. If it needs fixin’ I can pretty much do it. I’m gonna keep you talkin, sweetheart. I worry you bonked hard. Tell me a bit about yourself. Like your name and why you are in this dingy shop.”

“Hanzo,” He cleared his throat, eyes focused on the wrist in the other man’s hand, surprised that he was not feeling any discomfort. “I bought the store with my brother. We moved in yesterday. I was here to clean.”

“So not a thief,”

“Yes, I am the jewel thief from the news. I decided to change my game plan and target a shitty little Asian market. I was surprised by two other renowned jewel thieves and we had a scuffle. The story about my brother is my cover.” 

“Ah,” Jesse nodded. “I can’t tell if you are concussed or just an asshole.”

Hanzo managed a smile. “I’m an asshole.” He looked up as he heard sirens echoing down the alley way. “I need to see what they took.” He groaned and managed to stand without assistance. 

Jesse stayed near until two officers stepped in through the back entrance.

The next two hours were a slog and a blur at the same time. The officers took photographs of the broken items. Fingerprints would have been useless. Everything, it seemed had fingerprints over it. The thieves had left the back door wide open and wiped the outside clean. Jesse, for what it was worth, was the best lead. He had a description of the culprits. 

They wore masks. Both were tall, one slouched and was skinny. He wore a pair of oversized pants that drooped down. The other was heavy set. Jesse had caught them. The larger one threw his weight at Jesse, causing him to fall back as the two ran into the alley. That was when Jesse saw Hanzo on the ground. “Human life is more important than stuff,” he concluded.

Hanzo refused medical attention and Jesse had shown the two officers out. He had not seen or heard the intruders. He looked at his phone. Noon. Two messages from Genji, one about being late. He sighed. For once it was a relief that Genji would not be back. It gave Hanzo time to clean up.

Hanzo flexed his left hand. He fell on glass. He remembered it digging deep into his skin, cutting him open. He remembered the burn. Why did it not hurt now? Slowly he unwrapped the gauze that Jesse had obviously placed there to find his hand perfectly in tact. Not a sign of scarring.

“Whelp, that is done. Want help cleaning up?”

Hanzo replaced the bandage and looked up. “That is not necessary. I caused you to lose your livelihood for the day. It is still early, you can get back to your job.”

Jesse shook his head. “Naw, I couldn’t concentrate on measuring and cutting if my life depended on it now. Grab your keys, I’m getting you something cold to drink and warm to eat, then I’ll help with this.”

“No,” Hanzo said. “If it is, all the same, I would rather we leave it as is.”

Jesse nodded, “A’ight, but at least come get some lunch. My treat. The owner is givin’ me free lunches while I am doing him a solid, he won’t mind feedin’ one more.” Jesse stood, shoulders squared. He was not going to take no for an answer.

Hanzo sighed and nodded. “If it will get you to leave me alone, I relent.”

\------------

The old adage of there being a Starbucks on every corner was true. That was where Genji found himself, sitting in a booth at the back of a Coffee shop, an overpriced whipped coffee concoction sat in front of him, untouched. Across from him was a half empty smoothie-banana peanut butter and sitting in the booth was Winston.

Genji swallowed. He had been sitting in silence for the past hour. He watched the gorilla, positive that he would come down from whatever high he was on and find it to be a figment of his imagination. Tiny gorillas from the moon were not real.

Winston gave him a backstory. He was not sure how much he believed. Winston was a guardian from the moon. He was sent to earth to locate the guardian known as Sentai. Winston somehow thought that guardian was him. Genji was some sort of mythical hero destined to save the world from the forces of evil.

“It is the robberies,” Winston stated. He looked intense for something so small and toy-like. “Do you not think they are odd?”

Genji shook his head. “I,” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I don’t know anything about the robberies. What robberies?”

“The jewelry heists,” Winston sighed. “The ones all over the news. Isn’t it strange how stores are being robbed, but the most of the inventory is not taken? They leave the front case jewels and only go after specific cuts and colors.”

Genji shook his head again and leaned in close to speak very quietly, “No, I didn’t know that. Look, I just moved here yesterday. I don’t know where my grocery store is, let alone anything about jewelry heists!”

Winston blinked and looked at him. “People are staring.” 

“Of course they are! I am talking to a foot tall gorilla. From the moon. This is weird!”

“No, they are staring because you are making a scene. Relax. No one will question it.”

“Gorilla. Moon.” Genji tried to break it down in the simplest terms. “This is crazy and people are watching! This is crazy.”

Winston let out a long, slow sigh. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward, “Genji, no one will notice me. Embedded into my suit is a complex computer system that allows-” Winston stopped as he noticed the glaze moving over Genji’s eyes. “Moon magic. Just...Just tell yourself it is all moon magic.”

Genji nodded and sat back. “Magic. This is magic. Magic is real. I can handle magic.”

“Are you having a panic attack?”

“Of course I am having a panic attack. My biggest problem was supposed to be attending enough classes so I can fly under my brother’s radar. I want to party and get laid. I don’t want to be a lackey for some moon monkey.” He threw his body into the back of the booth, crossing his arms tight over his chest and frowned.

Winston frowned back at him, “It is not a choice. If I had my way, I would pick some high ranking police officer to take up the mantle, not some punked out party-boy, but here we are. Sometimes we are stuck with a less than ideal option.”

Genji shook his head and pressed the palms of his hands into the table, using all his strength to push himself up to stand. “Look, Moon Monkey, I appreciate the offer, but no. I am not some amazing cyborg ninja. I am just some screw-up kid with a dark past looking for answers and-oh god I sound like the protagonist from some terrible anime.” He slowly sunk back into the seat.

“You even have the technicolor hair,” Winston pointed out, stirring the contents of his smoothie. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but think about it. Think of the good you can do for this world and tell me you do not feel it inside you. You know this is true.”

Genji banged his head on the table. “Shit. Well Shit.”

Winston took another long drink. “Tell me about it.”

\------------

The burgers had been decent, Hanzo had to admit and Jesse was, likewise, decent company. He had a mouth on him that wouldn’t stop as if he had to occupy every moment of space with noise. He talked mostly about the neighborhood, pointing out people in the restaurant with detailed descriptions of their occupations and hobbies. Most acknowledged Jesse with a friendly wave or handshake. It seemed the man in front of him was truly the regional handyman.

“So you just moved here. Where ya’ll from?”

“Japan.”

“No shit,” Jesse leaned back and propped his legs on the empty chair next to Hanzo. “The time difference must be killin’ ya.”

“I did not just get here from Japan. I was born there. My family moved here when I was a boy,” Hanzo gave the boots next to him a disgusted look. Any charm the man in front of him had was lost by his unrefined manners. 

Jesse rolled his eyes, “Or sure, getting into semantics now. Ok, fine, just say ya don’t wanna answer my questions.”

“I don’t want to answer your questions,” Hanzo took a sip from the cold tea in front of him and made a face as sugar invaded his senses. “This is-”

“It’s sweet tea and it is good.”

“It is sugar in water with a slight lemon flavor to it. This isn’t tea.”

Jesse sighed. “Man, you weren’t kidding about the asshole thing. I get it’s been a bad day, but ease up on people tryin’ to be friendly.”

Hanzo felt his pride welling to the surface. He had to bite the inside of his mouth so he would not retort. He was a new business in an established area. It was plainly obvious people around here liked and respected the idiot seated across from him and, he reminded himself, punching a man for being smug was rude. 

“So tell me cause I am dyin’ to know,” Jesse sat back up straight and removed his boots from the furniture. He leaned forward and snatched a fry from Hanzo’s basket and popped it right into his mouth. “What kind of rich kid are you; trying to prove to mumsie and popsicle that you are a big boy and can handle the big bad world on your own or disinherited?” 

Hanzo choked.

Jesse smirked and leaned farther forward. “I got an eye for these things and you are a conundrum. See, first impression was that you were just some rich kid looking to get away from parents who just don’t understand you but there is an edge to you too. You ain’t just some spoiled kid. I gotta know.”

Jesse pushed back and took up his smug posture again. His arms crossed over his chest and he propped one leg over the other. He waited.

Hanzo shook his head, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You been in the system?”

“No. I don’t understand. What system?”

Jesse nodded slowly. His eyes rolled over Hanzo and suddenly, he felt his neck grow hot. He stood up quickly and gave a short bow. “I appreciate lunch, Mr. McCree. Thank you for everything you did to help me. I should return to my shop and clean the mess. Have a good day.” Before he could get an answer, Hanzo turned and slammed the door behind him, making a way back to his shop as quickly as possible. 

Jesse watched the retreating back of the obviously flustered man. He snatched the sweet tea left on the table and took a long drink. Hanzo was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, that was sure. Jesse wanted to break him open to see what would spill out.

\------------

It was a quarter past one by the time Genji jogged up the stone stairs that led to the monastery. He was late, that was for sure, but late was better than not at all.His head was abuzz. What the hell was a Sentai? Well, in theory, he understood what it was, but in practice...Did he have to fight monsters? Would he have to kill people? How was he suppose to keep up with classes AND fight crime?

Did he get paid?

To his credit, Winston looked just as put out by the prospect as Genji had been. They parted ways awkwardly and Genji took off towards the monastery, while Winston went up, onto the fire escapes and headed deeper into the city. The whole affair was bizarre. Right now, he just hoped for just an iota or normality back in his life. People would be there. Normal people. People who did not want to talk about fighting crime and saving the day.

He climbed the final stair and looked up, finally seeing the magnificent house. It looked elegant and regal, surrounded by large oak trees. It was strangely out of place with the busy streets not far below. It was a Tudor style house, white facing with cross section of dark wood cladding on the second floor while the first floor had a regal, warm brick exterior. It was not what he was expecting to find at all with an order of monks. The property was surrounded by a large brick fence.

The Shambali monks looked out of place here, clad in earthen toned kasaya. Genji nodded a greeting as he passed one that swept the stone walkway.

“Greetings,” came the musical tones from the omnic, four pink dots lit up on his forehead. “Peace be upon you.”

He nodded another greeting to the placid monk as he headed towards the front entrance. To the right side of the house was an expensive vegetable garden. A neat, chicken wire fence ran around the perimeter, keeping out any small animals looking to catch a meal. Three buckets sat outside the wire fence, already filled with colorful vegetables. Other monks sat meditating in the yard, allowing the sunlight to filter through the large trees and glisten on their silver faces. A sense of peace passed over Genji at the display. None of the monks seemed particularly interested in him, or his arrival, they continued their activities as if nothing was amiss and Genji’s presence was expected. As odd as the whole scene was, they seemed happy. What was most surprising was how this did not feel for an instant like the middle of the city. He felt transported to another world.

The only thing that broke this tranquil fantasy was the bright neon over the walls and windows, plainly spouting ‘Go home Gearchunker!” across the front windows in bold, orange writing. He felt his stomach twist. Being greeted with that sign every morning was wrong.

“You made it!” Genji turned as he heard that familiar sing-song voice. He gave a wave as Lena ran over. She had changed into orange running shorts and a white tank top. Genji suddenly felt very overdressed in his black jeans and wide cut tank-top. “I was getting a little worried there that you found better things to do.” She gave his arm a friendly punch.

Genji shrugged off his backpack and set it by the front of the house. “I am a man of my word and I said I would help you all. Is everyone in the back working or what?”

Lena’s smile tightened as a group of monks passes, greeting the pair. She waited to speak until they had passed. “With you here, we just doubled our numbers.”

“Oh,” He looked around. The monks paid them no attention still. “And no one here is cleaning up the mess?”

Lena sighed and shook her head, draping an arm over his shoulder and leading him around to the back. “The Shambali aren’t concerned with the spray paint at this point. They are concentrating on other aspects of the damage done. The stuff that is harder to replace,” She led him by the garden giving him a good look inside the gardens. Tomatoes were smashed against the side of the house and the door along with eggs. Some of the plants had been torn from the ground from their roots. A small monk, the size of a child, sat in the dirt, tending to a plant, hoping to get the vegetable rerooted. The smell of rot hit Genji as a gentle breeze passed and he felt himself gag a little. The monks in the garden did not seem to mind. Genji wondered if they had a sense of smell, there was no visible nose.

“So where do you want me, boss. I got all the time in the world right now,” Genji’s phone pinged loudly, as if on cue. The monks in the garden looked up, finally perturbed. Genji fished it out of his pocket and set it on mute. Hanzo would have to wait. “I can probably be here ‘till seven.” He modified his statement.

Lena shrugged. “Stay as long as you are able. I am just thankful you showed up. Have you ever had to wash off spray paint before? We are going to try our best to wash all we can before resorting to painting.” She did not seem to notice the omnic’s reaction to his phone. He would ask about that later.

Genji was left at the back wall of the house where it seemed the worst of the spray painting was with a bucket and scrub brush. Lena had a mixture of some chemicals of some kind waiting for him. He sighed and removed his shirt and cell phone, placing them farther away in the grass and went to work.

Buying paint was not an option at this point. Lena explained the simplistic living conditions of the monks, they did not care to spend money on cosmetic things unless it was absolutely necessary. Genji dipped the hard scrub brush into the water and went about cleaning the back wall. His first priority was the robotic slurs. Some were ones he had never heard before. Luckily for him, whoever did this bought cheap paint. It came out easily with a good scrub.

Genji was panting in the heat as his phone pinged again. He dropped the scrub brush into the water and turned. His arm was burning. He had been slacking off as far as his workout regiment was concerned, but he did not feel he should be this out of shape. He dropped into the grass and picked up his phone. One message from Hanzo. One from UNKNOWN.

Hanzo was the first to deal with. His message was quick and to the point, asking if Genji would be home for dinner or not and finally, asking if Hanzo should wait up for him at all. 

Genji typed out a quick message

‘At Shambali Monks. Do not know about dinner. Will be sleeping at home. No friends. :(‘

It was unusual. Hanzo’s responses were usually long, drawn out paragraphs that have several elements to them: 1) Demand something from Genji, usually time or chores, 2) Berated Genji for his poor life choices and time management skills, and 3) demanding an immediate response with definite answers to the questions Hanzo was thinking about, but not asking. This had none of those elements to them. Genji sent back another quick text ‘U OK?’

He swiped to pull up the other number, UNKNOWN. 

‘This is Winston. I have some information for you in regards to the robberies. I will meet you at your house at eight. I know where you live.’

How did that little furball know his number? Let alone his address. He sighed and saved the number in his phone and replied back. ‘Tell me I at least get a cool costume. I want pink.’

He threw his phone down onto his things and laid back in the grass. His back ached and his eyes were strained. He just wanted a few minutes to rest. His mind wandered as his body relaxed. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Hanzo would be furious when he found out. And Hanzo’s temper was not something he eagerly invoked. Annoying Hanzo to the point of storming out was one thing, but anger…

Genji swallowed. His back tingled with a phantom pain. A lasting reminder of why he was not to anger his brother. Hanzo could be volatile. His brother had a fuse on him, but once snapped, he would become a demon, another person entirely. Genji had only seen that side of him once, but it was enough.

No, Hanzo would not know about any of this. Not a thing.

“Do you require something to drink? You appear fatigued,” Genji cracked an eye and looked up at the blank faceplate of a monk. His features were similar to the rest of his order, except he had four dots, arranged as a cross on his forehead.

Genji pushed himself to sit up, “No, that is fine. I was just resting.” 

“Brother Brim tasked me with bringing you both lemonade. As thanks.” The Omnic held out a glass for Genji. “The lemons were fresh,” The omnic continued, pushing the glass further out. The ice clinked. Condensation rolled off the clear glass and Genji felt his throat grow parched.

“Thank you,” He smiled and took it. The omnic watched him.

Genji brought it to his lips and took a sip. Immediately, his jaw clenched up as the sour taste invaded his senses, overpowering him and causing his whole face to tighten up. It dawned on him: Omnics did not have a sense of taste. They had not added a drop of sugar. He smiled and nodded as he handed the glass back. “Wonderful. Thank you. Very refreshing.”

The omnic looked pleased as he took the glass back. He gave a polite bow and returned inside the house.

Any sense of exhaustion was gone now. Genji groaned and flopped back onto the ground. The sun was still beating down on him. But duty called. Genji quickly rolled his body up to kick-flip off the ground and to a standing position. He and Hanzo would have to find a place to train. He felt tight and out of practice. 

Genji examined the wall; Most of the expletives had been washed away. He would get a hose out to spray down the side of the house later. The only thing left now was some crude drawings. He sighed and grabbed the scrub brush and went to tackle the big green one first.

“Please allow the artwork to remain.” 

Genji spun on his heel, swearing loudly and throwing the scrub brush down. There was a slight movement from under a large maple tree. The tilting of a head, followed by the faint glow of blue dots, nine of them all is a symmetrical pattern. One of the monks sat serenely, watching Genji.

Slowly, he unfolded himself and moved to stand, “My apologies, I did not mean to frighten you.”

Genji put his hand over his heart, “Naw, man. Just been snuck up on one too many times today.” His breathing returned to normal. How long had that monk been sitting there?

As if he could read a mind, the monk continued, “I was doing my afternoon meditations here. I rather appreciate the bold colors. It gives a little life to this building, would you not say?”

Genji looked back at the house, “Well, yeah. It does but...they are not meant to be nice.”

“No,” The monk continued, stepping out closer to Genji, the sunlight reflected off his chrome exterior. “Those were upsetting words, but I appreciate the beauty of these colors. The colors of the city at night.”

Genji looked back to the neon greens, oranges, and pinks. “So you want me to stop?” He asked, motioning back.

“The airplanes can stay on the wall.” The monk folded his arms behind his back and looked at Genji. “They add something to my thoughts, a peace with the city in which we live.”

His eyes traveled back to the wall, to the cylindrical shapes with two circles on either side. “Those are penises,” He pointed out. “See, the shaft and the testicles...plus the slit right there.” He brought his hand out, drawing the monk a Diagram. 

Silence fell. The monk’s eyes ran over the wall again. “Oh,” He said, his serene voice faltering. “I assumed with the phrases of ‘Go home Omnics’ the artist was...drawing a diagram…of how we should leave…”

Genji smiled. “Nope, those are penises.”

“I still enjoy them,” The monk concluded. “But I can see how they would be upsetting to others.” He picked up the scrub brush Genji had dropped. He began to work as Genji had done, working the brush into the paint with slow, tight circles. 

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” Genji reached out.

“I rather like helping. Plus, my meditations have been unproductive this afternoon. I have been distracted.”

They worked in silence, the monk slowly exfoliating the paint away from the house while Genji worked with a hose to wash it all away. He found it was quicker with two people. It was especially helpful with a partner who did complain about sore joints.

Water rolled over the omnic’s hand joints, sticking to the metal frame. “Is it okay, you getting wet and all?” He broke the silence.

The monk looked to his hand and chuckled. “I am waterproof.” He said. “No damage will be done to me if I get a little wet. I have even traveled to the ocean before. I found the sand a much bigger nuisance.”

He nodded, twisting up the hose to put it away. The sun had dipped below the treeline. It was getting late. “I haven’t met many omnics before. Well. I have. Omnics work in a lot of businesses. I mean, I haven't talked to a lot of omnics before.”

“Do you find me agreeable to talk to?” The monk asked, wiping his hands on his kasaya.

“Yeah, kind of,” Genji said, slipping his shirt back on. 

“I find you kind of agreeable to talk to as well,” The monk gave a slight bow. “Thank you for your time this afternoon. Tell Lena that we always appreciate her assistance here and she is welcome to bring more of her friends here anytime if they are as agreeable as you.” The monk clasps his hands behind his back once more and began to stroll away.

He watched as the monk traveled down the back hill, into the surrounding trees and sat again, under a willow tree and took up meditation once more before he turned and headed back around the side of the house. There were no more monks in the side garden. A pile of dead plants was stacked just outside the fence, a feast for rabbits. 

He found Lena at the front. She was talking to three of the monks. The front of the house was clean of most of the paint as well. There was still a vibrant outline where a penis had been drawn, but unless you were looking, it was unnoticeable. Lena gave a short bow to the three monks when she saw Genji and jogged over to him. “I was just about to pop back and get you. How’d you fair?”

“The back is done.” He announced happily as they headed down the front stairs at a much slower pace than normal. Exhaustion was starting to hit Genji hard. “All done. No more cock and balls on this house.”

Lena smiled wide as she punched her fist into the air weakly. “We totally did it! Just the two of us!” She panted. “We are the best.”

He shrugged and found his backpack. “I can’t take all the credit, I had help,” He said. “One of the monks came over.”

“Really?” Lena stopped on the stair and looked back up. “Which one? The monks were given an order to leave it alone. That’s why we came out.”

Genji shrugged. “He seemed to like the colors. I didn’t catch his name.”

Lena looked back up at the building, lost in her own thoughts. “I wonder…” She shook her head and grabbed his arm, hopping down the rest of the stairs. “I forgot to warn you about the lemonade, you didn’t drink any of it, did you?

\-------------------

Genji returned home to an empty apartment. Below, he could hear things being shuffled around. Hanzo was still working. He did not have the energy to face his brother right now. He rubbed his eyes and stomped into his room, throwing the backpack into a corner. He flopped down onto the nest of blankets he called a bed and heard a slight “Oomph” under him.

Genji groaned and rolled onto his back. “Hi, Winston,” He grumbled out. “Glad you found the place. Did you have a nice nap?”

Winson clawed his way out from the blankets. “I was not napping, I was hiding.” He said gruffly. “That brother of yours is nosy. I have been trying to stay hidden from him.”

“I thought your moon magic made you invisible,” Genji rolled to his side and curled up with the pillow. 

“Your brother noticed when I came in. He came up from the store below us and spent fifteen minutes searching the place. I believe if he found me, he would see me.”

“Yeah, Hanzo can be a real asshole,” Genji sighed and pulled himself to sit. “So you said eight, but I am here now and it is-” He looked at his clock. “Six. Should we just do it now? Hanzo won’t come up. Trust me.”

Winston nodded, “Yes. Now is a good time.” He stood back in the middle of the room. Genji moved to sit up and pushed away the blankets to give the gorilla space if he needed it.

Winston removed a small charm from his belt and held it out to the young man. “That is your talisman. It is the source of all your new power.”

Genji reached out and took the charm from Winston and let it rest in his palm. It had the appearance of a large coin and easily fit the width of his hand, but was surprisingly light in weight. The jade green coloring caught the evening sun’s light and glistened in his hand. He had seen stones this vibrant before, but none that seemed so otherworldly. While it looked like precious stone, it felt metallic. It was emblazoned with a singular dragon that encircled the rim, its mouth open as if ready to devour. A katana sliced through the middle, the blade facing the dragon’s head.

Genji gave a chuckle. Dragons. His family spirit animals. Of course, his destiny would involve these magnificent beasts. “So how does this work? I hold it and become some sort of Dragon Warrior?”

“The talisman is ancient. Thousands of years old. It is passed down to only a worthy hero when the world needs him most,” Winston explained, his voice going low. He reached out, curling Genji’s fingers around the cool surface. “It calls upon ancient technology. You just need to call it to you.”

“How do I call it?” Genji whispered.

“You….call it,” Winston said again. “And it comes to you.”

Genji stood up. He held the talisman out in front of him, waiting for the words to come to him. “So is there some type of...incantation?” He asked. “You know, Moon Prism Power…?”

Winston gave him a deadpan look and adjusting his glasses, not answering him.

Genji nodded, “Right, it just comes to me.” So no magical incantation. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. The seconds ticked on, and he did not feel anything change. He didn’t feel anything. Genji shifted his weight and rolled his shoulders back. Was this going to work?

He felt a cool rush of wind against him. His skin prickled, raising goose bumps along his arms. Suddenly, his body felt weightless, as if he had been suspended in cool water, the sounds of the world around him dissipating away into nothingness. The ground became apparent to him once again, hard and heavy under his feet. 

Solid.

Slowly, he cracked an eye. “Winston....” His voice sounded far off. A slight tin tone resonated in him. “Did it work?”

He opened his eyes and tentatively peered down at himself. Gone were his jeans and tank top. Instead, he was armor clad in green and black, sharp lines and a metal exterior. But none of it weighed him down. It felt like a second skin. He allowed his hands to roam over his form. Every inch of him was covered in the metal frame, but he could feel the pressure of his fingertips on him. “Winston,” He gasped.

“You can withstand more than a normal human can in that suit. It also enhances your natural abilities. You can run faster. Jump higher. And-” 

Genji sprinted to the bathroom. He took a long look in the mirror at himself. A green visor stared back. “Whoa,” he brought his hands up and felt along the ridges of the helmet over his head. “I look like a bug,” He gasped.

Winston jumped onto the counter and continued his speech, “The tactical suit is built to withstand damage and keep your body safe. You may have a few bruises, but,” He chuckled. “You will not be seriously hurt.”

Genji turned around and looked at the backside of the armor. A white scarf fluttered out back. “My butt looks amazing!” He reached back and groped himself. “This is like, the best thing ever! Look at how toned I am!”

“We will go out-” Winston interjected. 

“Do I get a weapon?” Genji leaned across the counter. “Oh! I am a Kamen Ranger, right? Do I get a motorcycle? Some mythical beast to fight aliens in?” A long string of questions followed. Genji bounced on the balls of his feet, eagerly awaiting Winston’s answer.

“You get the suit,” Winston said. “We need to test it out, make sure you know how to properly-and responsibly- use these powers.” He grabbed Genji’s arm and crawled up, swinging himself around to Genji’s back. “Go to the roof, you should be able to leap to the next building. We will avoid roads.”

“Right. I am the Kamakiri Warrior!” Genji struck a pose he remembered from an old Sentai show and in the mirror. “Dude, this is amazing.” He grabbed his phone and went to the window and scrambled to the roof. “So what first? Stop a bank robbery? Thwart some dastardly deeds?”

“Step one is learning how to function in the suit. I will give you instructions and you will follow,” Winston’s arms tightened around his neck. “It would be unwise to get involved without understanding what you are doing. Being the Sentai is more than just punching randomly.”

Genji nodded, “I’m the Kamakiri Warrior! I will defend the innocents!” He sprinted to the end of the building and lept. A sense of weightlessness passed over him, allowing him to feel, for a moment like he was flying before he touched down and skidded to a stop. Genji looked back at the forty feet that passed from where he started and where he landed. He punched both fists into the air and let out a cheer. “Winston, my man, I could have done that without the suit. Natural talent.” He turned and ran, leaping to the next building, then the next, and the next. Exhilaration. He felt a sense of freedom come over him. He was invincible in this suit. 

“Okay,” Winston stated. “We are going to run drills. I give you an order, you follow it. We are going to test how much this suit can handle. Turn left.”

Genji complied, not missing a beat. He turned left, leaped at a large, stone building and clung to the masonry. He scaled the wall and vaulted across to another building, and another. At this angle, the city looked different, smaller. Below him, cars sat nestled in traffic. Pedestrians went about their commute home. No one paid any attention to the masked man above them. It was thrilling.

Winston ordered him to stop once the sun began to dip below the horizon. Genji sat at the edge of a building and allowed his legs to dangle over. Slowly, the street lamps flickered on. He felt sweaty and sore and energized. They sat in silence, just watching. 

“This is a huge responsibility,” Winston finally said. “No one has ever been the Sentai in over a generation. People have forgotten what heroes are. This is a heavy burden to bear. People will not just accept a masked man as a force of good.”

Genji nodded, “Yeah. I must be a ninja; Never seen. Never heard.” He relaxed back. Cicadas began to hum from the park nearby. He closed his eyes. From this distance, the traffic sounds were a dull rush. No sound was louder than the others. It was peaceful up here. Natural. He opened his eyes again and scanned the city.

“Stop! Help!” Genji sat up and looked down. In the park across the street was a woman, clinging to her bag. A man had the bag in his arms, pulled to his chest. He kicked out, sending the woman sprawled on the pavement before he turned and ran, leaping over a park bench and into the crowd. Several people yelled and pointed. A mounted police officer turned towards the robber but did not move.

Genji lept, the man in his sights. He hit the pavement and took off, targeted on the man. He was a hero, damn it. He would not allow someone to just attack a woman like that. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he lept over cars. The robber turned a corner, heading down an alleyway. Genji pursued. 

Genji took the turn hard, leaping up onto the nearby wall and using the momentum to kick off and not slow down. He was gaining on the man quickly.

He heard the cry of policemen behind him, telling him to stop. Genji pressed on, gaining on the man. Suddenly, the man stopped and turned.

Two shots rang out. Genji felt his arms go up, deflecting the bullets away, as if by instinct. His head rang as two more shots came. Genji dropped low and grabbed the man, tackling him down. Both bodies sprawled against the streets and Genji twisted. He pinned the man under him, his arms behind his back. Genji grabbed the purse and shouldered it.

“Stop! Police!” He looked up. Two police officers stood, guns drawn and pointed. A look of shock over their faces. 

Genji ground his heel into the robber’s back, pulling a sore groan from the man. “Here is your purse snatcher!” He declared, silently cursing that he could not think of anything better to say. He ran, scaling up the wall, and remembered, “I am the Kamakiri Warrior!” He shouted back at the police once he got to the top. “Kamakiri!” The officers looked up at him as he ran off.

It was easy to find the woman again. She was still in the park, now seated on a bench. Three people surrounded her, calming her and addressing the scrapes on her knees. Another officer sat next to her, a notepad in her hand. Genji jogged over and gave the woman her purse back, before disappearing into the night again and up the building where Winston sat, frowning.

“That was cool,” He smiled, hands on his hips. “Wasn’t it? That was awesome. I am awesome.”

“That was incredibly stupid,” Winston moved over. “But...you did stop a robbery. I was thinking you would do, you know, bigger things but...purse snatching is a good start.” He sighed and climbed back onto Genji’s back. “I’ll take you home.”

\-----------

Hanzo poked at his noodles, occasionally stirring them in the bowl. His eyes were fixed on Genji, who was propping himself up on an elbow and nearly asleep, despite it being only nine. “So,” Hanzo cleared his throat. “What is her name? Or is it a him?”

Genji jolted upright, blinking a few times before looking at Hanzo. “What?”

“You were obviously trying to impress someone,” Hanzo took a quick bite. He chewed and swallowed before continuing. “You are tired and sore. Your nails are dirty and there is a grass stain on your shirt.” 

Genji scowled and looked down at his appearance. His whole body ached. “It was not romantic.” He mumbled. “I went to help clean up the Shambali monk temple. It was graffitied the other night.”

“So girl or boy this time?” A slight smirk played on Hanzo’s face. “Are they cute?”

Genji scowl deepened. “It was a girl. And I am not her type.”

“That hasn’t stopped you in the past,” Hanzo stated. He reached across the coffee table and snatched a dumpling out of Genji’s bowl.

“I thought about asking her out. Then she introduced me to her girlfriend. She is a nurse. And a redhead. I can’t compete with that,” Genji reached across and snatched the fish cake out of Hanzo’s bowl. 

“And in local news,” Genji perked at those words. “Footage was just delivered to us by a mysterious man who stopped an apparent robbery.” The scene changed to a shaking camera showing the busy street. He could just make out a green blur running down the alley way. It cut to a police officer.

“We were in pursuit of a snatch and grab when out of nowhere this guy showed up. He deflected bullets into the wall and just tackled this guy like he was nothing,”

The scene cut to the woman. Her blonde hair was disheveled but pulled back into a messy ponytail, but she seemed more collected than when he last saw her on the bench. “I wasn’t able to thank him, he was gone in an instant.”

The anchor came back on the screen, “In an official police statement, Chief O’Brien states that citizens should not engage in any dangerous situations. We here at the station have a dubbed this mysterious hero the Sentai Warrior. Thank you, Sentai Warrior!”

Genji felt his face fall as Hanzo burst into laughter.


	3. A new crisis: Trouble comes thundering down

It had been three weeks since Winston waltzed into his life and turned him into an exhausted mess. Classes were well underway and a complete and total bore. Hanzo had insisted on business management as a major. It was versatile and employers were always looking for people with experience. It was the sensible choice. 

Genji was not a sensible person, but telling his older brother he would rather marry rich and be pampered for the rest of his life would not be in line with the goals Hanzo had set. 

Genji felt himself wearing thin. Every day after classes finished, he spent several hours in the shop, working on papers and amusing Hanzo’s idea of customers taking interest in shitty Asian novelties.

His nights though were filled with training. He would walk up the stairs to the apartment with Hanzo, have a quick meal, then he would climb out his window like a thief and spend the next several hours leaping and bounding across the rooftops.

Genji rubbed his tired eyes as the rhythmic beeping of the grocery scanner thump thump thumped in his brain. Everything ached.

“Genji,” Hanzo’s stern voice brought him back. Genji looked at the basket in his hand and began to set everything up for the omnic grocer to check them out. Hanzo began to scroll through his phone, looking for coupons, and ignoring Genji once again.

“Did you hear,” the female omnic said to the worker that was bagging in hushed whispers. “That Sentai Warrior struck again last night. Saved some poor human child from a car crash.”

“All children are human, Dal,” The bagger retorted. He leaned closer to her. Genji pulled a magazine off the rack and thumbed through it, listening to the omnics conversation about the Sentai Warrior and his virtues. “I was there. There wasn’t any child. The Sentai swooped down and carried this old woman out of the way of a drunk driver.”

Genji put the magazine back once they were close to finishing and moved to help the omnic bagger. His brother’s focus was on the female omnic, Dal. Genji smiled at the bagger. So you actually saw the...the Sentai Warrior?” He asked quietly, stealing a look at his brother.

“Oh yes,” The omnic whispered, his eye slits lit up, casting a slight purple glow. “The news doesn’t report it, but we omnics know. He is one of us, an omnic! A real omnic hero.” 

Hanzo grunted and moved past Genji, “Grab the bags, we have to get the shop open by nine.” Genji nodded thanks to the omnic and grabbed two of the bags and followed his brother out of the market. That morning, they had awoken to find the fridge had broken down. It was not the best morning surprise to be awakened to the sounds of his brother cursing loudly. What drew him out of the bed though was the wave of noxious fumes that wafted in. All the food had spoiled.  
It sent Hanzo into a mood, which in turn, sent Genji into a mood. The early morning hours were spent trying to get the smell out of the apartment. Everything was double bagged and dragged to the dumpster then Genji spent the hour trying to scrub out the melted carton of ice cream and the smell of rancid milk. 

The windows were left wide open as they walked to the corner shop for non-perishable foods to tide them over. Genji hoped that the smell would have dissipated by the time they returned.

Hanzo nudged his brother with his shoulder as they walked down the street, knocking Genji out of his thoughts again. “What is with that look.”

Genji shifted the tote in his hand and scowled, “I don’t have a look.” 

“You do so,” Hanzo sighed and nudged him again. “You have been frowning all morning.”

It was true that he had been in a foul mood the previous week. The local news had dedicated a segment to the Sentai Warrior nearly every night. Genji spent the better part of the last three weeks roaming the neighborhood and saving little old lady’s cats from trees. He stopped one would-be assailant and chased down another few purse snatchers, but nothing bigger than that. Winston insisted that he hone his skills with small crimes, which he didn’t mind. He rather liked helping out people. What bothered him was it did not matter how many times he shouted his name-the Kamakiri Warrior-no one called him that.

And with every news segment that mentioned the Sentai Warrior Hanzo would burst into a fit of drunken giggles. He teased that one person did not make a squadron and that whoever it was in that suit was an idiot and a fool. 

Winston told him to resign himself to the fact that the world dubbed him the Sentai Warrior. It was a strong, proud name. It sounded tough. That it may even benefit them to let the world think there would be more of them. It could give Genji power. 

Genji’s mood darkened. “Have you contacted the landlord about the fridge yet?” he asked as they came to the back of their building.

“Don’t change the subject.” 

Genji let out a dramatic sigh and stomped up the stairs. “I’m pissed off because I was woken up before the sun and had to clean up a shitty mess.”

“I called the landlord. He is out of the city for the next two weeks.”

“Hanzo,” Genji let out a loud groan and threw his head back dramatically, holding out each syllable of his brother’s name. “I can’t eat shitty protein bars for dinner for two weeks!”  
“Don’t worry, I met a neighborhood handyman,” Hanzo stated and pushed the key into the lock and pushed open the door. They were greeted with the fresher smells of the city and not rancid dairy. “I met him a couple of weeks ago in the in the shop.I will get in contact with him today about repairing our fridge.”

Genji nodded and headed up the stair, deciding the change the subject to Hanzo’s favorite subject. “He buy anything?” Genji unpacked the bags and started putting things into the cupboards.

“No,” Hanzo let out a deep sigh and pushed some junk food back on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “He spent most of the time annoying me and being a bother.”

Genji smirked, “So he came into your tacky junk store with the sole purpose of flirting. Hanzo, a boy has a crush on you.”

“He was hairy and talkative and insulting,” Hanzo grumbled and shut the cupboard door hard. His cheeks had a slight pinkness to them. “And he was not in there to flirt with me. He was there because the back door was open.”

Genji moved over and poked Hanzo’s cheek. He scowled and pushed Genji away. “Oh man, that is completely your type. You love it when guys egg you on and can keep up with your sharp tongue.” He snorted and leaned over Hanzo again. “Call tall, hairy and obnoxious. Get him to fix our fridge. Then ask him to fix your fridge.” He wiggled his eyebrows

Hanzo smacked him away, his neck flushed a brighter red. “You will need to take public transportation to school this morning. I have a meeting at the bank. I received a letter saying my check did not clear.” He changed the subject.

Genji backed off. He knew there was only so far he could tease his brother before he shut down. He went to go finish getting ready for the day. He headed to the bathroom to grab a shower and quickly dressed. Hanzo was in the main room, the phone up to his ear. 

“Hey,” Genji called as he picked up his backpack and headed out. “Before you let your boy work on your plumbing, the shower is leaking again. Maybe he can work on that as well. Put a sock on the door when you fuck so I don’t have to see that”

Hanzo’s face went red again. He threw a pillow at the cackling man as the door shut behind him.

__________

Genji sat in the back of the classroom, listening to the woman up front drone on and on about the different methods of accounting or something. Genji had lost interest after the first five minutes of class and the talk about Roth IRAs and CDs and other analysis of acronyms. Currently, he had his tablet open in front of him and was silently watching youtube videos about different dance techniques used when one wished to “throw down”. 

His interest waned. There was only so much he could take of youtube videos before his brain and body demanded movement. His eyes moved to the window, looking out to the trees of the courtyard just outside. Squirrels bounded from branch to branch, chasing each other. Even though the weather stayed beautiful and warm, the way the tiny rodents scurried around was a reminder that autumn was fast approaching.

They would picnic out under those trees sometimes. His mind wandered back to a decade ago when his tiny, broken family would meet under those trees for lunch. Jack would finish one of his classes and meet them under the trees. He would chase around his foster brother around. What he would give to hear any of their laughter again.

Genji was pulled from his thoughts as a book slammed on the desk. His attention turned to the girl that had been previously sitting in front of him flip through the book. “Hey there, Moon Eyes, back with the land of the living?”

Genji ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Yeah, uh, yeah, just a little lost there.”

“Don’t blame you,” The girl leaned in, her dark auburn hair spilled over the desk. “I hate this class,” She whispered. “I took it because I needed a math credit.” 

Genji gave a little laugh and looked up at the blackboard, looking over the assignment and opening his own book to the page of word problems. “I have a lot more of these classes to take. Business major.”

“Gross,” The girl made a face. “I am going into journalism. I already run a blog that is pretty popular and I like snooping.” She held out her hand. “Hana Song.”

Genji took her hand and gave it a vigorous shake, introducing himself as well. Hana was a bit of a spitfire. She had a quick mouth and a sharp mind. They were supposed to spend the remaining time in class looking for solutions to minor accounting fumbles. Instead, Hana turned them all into conspiracy theories.

“So you see, there is a wide network of international thieves here,” She ran her hand down the page. “It starts here in scenario three, the multi-million dollar company not able to account for three people’s wages and goes all the way down to the laundromat in question one.”

“The laundromat is obviously a front for the mafia,” Genji agreed, writing down the answers as Hana spouted them out. “Laundering money, a laundromat. It is just so obvious.”

Hana laughed loudly and tore out a page in her notebook and passed it to Genji as the students around them began to shuffle and head out. “Get your name on it. I answered the questions during the lecture.” She stood up and shouldered her backpack. “If I knew you were fun, I would have talked to you sooner.” She slapped his shoulder. “Hey, I gotta go. I have a twitch stream happening in a half hour. Gimme your number.”

Genji blinked and stood up, shoving his items into his bag, rattling off his cell number to the girl as they left the room. She snapped the gum in her mouth, fingers flying over her phone. “Cool cool cool.” She smiled and punched his shoulder playfully, “I’ll text you. Come over some time and we can dive deeper into the city’s seedy underbelly.”

Right then his phone chimed. It was Lena. He ignored it for now. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Song. I hope to see you again soon.”

Hana made finger guns as his phone chimed again. “You know it.” She spun on her heel and sauntered away, face buried in her phone.

Genji turned and headed down to the courtyard himself. Lena would be waiting for him.  
________

Hollow footsteps fell and reverberated off the marble walls as Hanzo walked down the empty corridor. The art deco stylings with black marble in angular patterns with gold embellishment and the high, black tin room made the anxiety rise in the pit of his stomach. The office was cold. Uncaring. Like the business, he was here to conduct.

He had to bypass the bank on the lower level to the black elevators that shot him up to the top floor, dropping his stomach into his shoes. It had been almost seven years since the last time he stepped foot in this building. And he had hoped that he would have never seen this place again.

His eyes locked on the lone desk that sat in the back of the log hallway, near the large mahogany wooden doors. A woman sat there with perfect posture, her dark violet hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Thin, wire rimmed glasses hung from the end of her nose and made her sharp angles look more pitiless. She did not look up when Hanzo stopped at the end of her desk. Her long, elegant fingers continued to type at the computer.

“You are late,” She finally said, her catlike yellow eyes meeting his, pinning him to the spot. 

Hanzo squared his shoulders and adjusted the cuffs of his black suit. “The meeting is promptly at nine thirty. It is now nine twenty-five. By my calculations, as well as the rest of the world’s, I m right on time. Tell your boss that I am here.”

Slowly, with all the elegance of a prima ballerina, she removed the glasses and set them down before pressing a button on her phone, her eyes never left Hanzo. “Mr. Ogundimu, your nine thirty is here.”

There was a pause as she folded her hands under her chin. She did not say a word. Hanzo’s eye caught the dark, black ring that wound around her left hand’s finger. It was as elegant and alarming as the woman herself. A blood red ruby was set in the center with black tendrils that wrapped around the long digit. 

“Send him in,” Came the collected voice over the phone, drawing Hanzo’s attention away from the bastardization of a wedding ring. 

Her hands slowly unfolded and moved under her desk, pressing an unseen button. There was a soft click and the doors unlocked. “Good luck, Mr. Shimada.” 

Hanzo swallowed as he stepped through the large door and into Ogundimu’s office. It had been years since his last encounter with the business man, and he had hoped that would have been the last encounter between them. 

His office looked very much as it had before: The floor was tiled with crimson, gold and black tiles in geometric patterns. Tall, black pillars led to the back of the office where a lone desk sat with a high back chair behind it, the occupant had his back to Hanzo. Against the far wall sat a long, triangular window that looked out upon the vast city, dominating the skyline.

As Hanzo walked forward, his shoes clicked on the tiles and the sound reverberated on the walls. He kept his hands at his side as he stopped just in front of the black desk and his chin high. He would not bow to this man.

Akande Ogundimu turned in his chair. “Young Master Shimada,” He motioned to the chair opposite him and waited for Hanzo to sit before continuing. “It has been a while since our last meeting, has it not? How are you enjoying that little brother of yours?”

“I have been paying you dutifully for the past three years, Ogundimu,” Hanzo stated, breaking the idle chatter to get to the point. “Every month I have sent in the check.”

“You have been paying the minimum balance on your accounts,” he flipped open a leather bound book to a page marked with a crimson tassel. “I see that you have been regular on your payments, which speaks volumes to your character, Shimada.”

“Then why the summons?”

“Because,” A smile crossed his face as he leaned forward as his voice took a more serious edge. “Your grace period ended two months ago.”

“Grace period?” Hanzo felt his stomach drop and the blood drain out of his face. 

“You did not think that this was a bank, Shimada,” Ogundimu’s smile faded and his features went icy cold. “You came to us with a request; you needed your brother back and found that...traditional means were outside your grasp.” He drew out that last word slowly. “I gave you what you wanted. Now you must give me what I want.”

Hanzo kept his posture straight, “You have been very generous to us. A simple letter telling me that I was required to pay more would have been sufficient.”

“I already have your fortune, Shimada,” Akande laughed and sat back in his chair. “No. What I desire is your unique set of talents. I am well aware of your family’s legacy. It was one of the many reasons I welcomed you with open arms.”

“I am not on your payroll. I have the Shimada name, but I left that life far behind me.”

“You are wrong,” He unfolded a paper in front of him and slid it across the desk to Hanzo. “You signed this contract. I have given you all the protection of the world to raise your brother without any interference. You and your brother were invisible to the world, your name all but was forgotten. It would be a shame if that peace was broken, would you not agree?” 

Ogundimu did not give Hanzo a chance to answer, instead, he took the contract back and placed it carefully into the file, placing it back into his desk. “It was good seeing you again, Mr. Shimada. You look well, if not a little exhausted. I do hope that you are able to keep yourself rested. Ms. Lacroix has a list of requests for you. It is in your best interest to dutifully comply. Have a pleasant afternoon.” 

Hanzo stood, straightening his suit coat. There was no use arguing. The conversation was over. He turned and walked back to the big, mahogany doors. Ms. Lacroix stood in the door. Her dark violet pencil skirt accentuated her long limbs. She was tall, thin and completely inflexible, a sealed manila envelope in her hands. 

She held it out for him. “Your assignments,” She tittered, a faint smile on her thin lips that did not reach her eyes. “Please see to them. They should be completed by your next due date. If not, you will go into collections.”

Hanzo took the envelope. “I won’t kill,” He growled out to her, taking it from her hands. “Tell your boss that. I have limits.”

She continued to smile icily, “Be punctual.” She turned and sat at her desk. “You would not be pleased to learn what Mr. Ogundimu’s version of collections is.”

Hanzo strode to the elevators and looked at the envelope in his hands, trying to keep from shaking. He had been warned as a boy. The Ogundimu family was powerful and influential. His father had refused business dealings with them on multiple occasions. His father told him “If you make a deal with a man like that, you will spend your whole life repaying him”. 

And here he was, making deals with the devil and losing himself to the world he wanted nothing to do with anymore. 

As the door to the elevator shut, he ripped open the envelope and looked inside. There was a single, crisp, white piece of paper. Printed with typewriter ink sat a list of twelve items. Twelve jobs for him to accomplish.

_____________

Jesse McCree had been sitting outside his apartment in the back alley when Hanzo returned from the bank, smoking a thin, brown cigar. Hanzo swallowed and watched as a thin cloud of white smoke unfurled from his lips slowly.

“Hey there, Darlin’. It sure has been a while,” Jesse smiled and snubbed out the cigar, placing the remaining bud into a silver container and stood as Hanzo approached. A black bag sat next to him on the stoop.

Hanzo hummed in agreement. “I apologize for the early morning call. I was in a rush and it was a bit of an emergency.”

“Hell, I would be pissed to wake up and find I can’t put milk into my Wheaties.” McCree flashed a smile and tilted an imaginary hat at Hanzo. “Lemme see what I can do for ya there, sug. I’ll make it right as rain.”

Hanzo sighed as he brought a hand to his forehead and tried to rub away the headache that started at dawn and still had not persisted. “I thank you,” He turned and headed up the stairs to the apartment, “I do appreciate that you were able to come over on such short notice.”

“Ain’t no thing,” McCree stepped into the sparse apartment just behind Hanzo and immediately moved into the kitchen. Hanzo stood in the doorway and watched the man pull the fridge away from the wall. He continued to talk as he crawled behind the large appliance and began to pull tools out of his black bag. “See, when I saw this morning that the handsome man I insulted the first time we met was needin’ some help, hell, I dropped all other business and said to myself, ‘Jess, you gotta do right this time’.”

Hanzo huffed out a laugh. “Again, I thank you. But I do have a shop to tend and I am an hour late.”

A hand appeared from behind the fridge and waved, “I know where to find ya then.”

Hanzo nodded in approval and pocketed his keys. He made sure that his and Genji’s rooms were shut tight and headed down to the shop below. He was rather proud of the state of the shop. He spent the better part of his days cleaning and organizing. It made it easy to work when he managed to get a handful of customers a day. Usually, they were looking for the noodle restaurant next door. Sometimes they would return and look around while waiting for their order. And even more rarely, someone would purchase something.

He moved to the front door to unlock it and flip over the sign. The merchandise was looking more manageable these days. He had cleaned out most of the useless trinkets that were worthless and donated them to a local thrift shop. There was space to breathe now. Too much space. 

The only place he had not touched was the back room. There was something about it...the blue light...the darkness. It scared him. His mind told him that he was foolish. He had been attacked by an assailant. That the blue light was a side effect of his brain trying to process a blow to the back of his skull.

But he remembered falling. The sound of broken glass as he fell forward and felt glass piece his skin. He remembered the blood. 

His eyes moved to his hand. There should have been scars still. He felt shards of glass cutting through the tendons. How did it heal so quickly? His head swam with questions he could not fathom the answers.

And he had yet to tell Genji about the whole ordeal. At first, it was the embarrassment; He was the elder son and the protector of the family. Then time moved on. After a week, embarrassment slipped into a numbness. Then an anger. Now, too much time had passed. There was no way he would be able to rightfully explain it to Genji without the other getting upset.

Hanzo was snapped out of his thoughts by a knock from behind. He turned to find McCree standing there, a light sheen of sweat over his forehead. “Darlin’ I got some bad news and some worse news.”

__________

The text came right as Genji was heading to the bus stop. He almost ignored it. 

 

Genji smirked and leaned against the bus stop sign and began to text her back. He didn’t get far before Hana continued. 

 

Genji snorted. He began to text her back. Hanzo would be expecting him for dinner. Winston would be expecting him to train. He paused as a picture came through of Hana with another person, a man their age with long dreadlocks and an infectious smile. Both of them held up huge bottles of tequila. Another message came through 

He laughed out loud. He was never one to turn away from peer pressure. He quickly deleted what he had and asked for directions. He headed back to campus and dialed up Winston. “Hey,” He let out a deep sigh as he heard his guardian gorilla answer. “Hey, Winston.”

“What is wrong?” He could hear the concern in the ape’s voice. He was probably sitting on the rooftop, munching on a peanut butter protein bar and tinkering with some gadget while he waited for Genji’s return. 

A twang of guilt went through him, but he continued, “Just a long day. Then I got hit with a project and it is going to take all night. I know you want me to go out tonight and train and patrol, but I gotta get this thing done.”

The line was quiet. Genji felt sweat slowly form on the back of his neck. He was a terrible liar. Hanzo was always able to read him easily. It was his eyes that gave him away. He could never keep eye contact when he wasn’t truthful. He wondered now if his voice was just as telling.

Finally, Winston spoke up. “You have been out late every night. And you do have early classes. It is unfair of me to expect you to go out every night. I will research tonight instead. Just be careful on your way home.”

“I have the talisman. If I need to, I can protect myself. I just need a break for the night. Take care of some other priorities.”

He heard Winston hum in agreement. “I will send you a message tomorrow about what I have learned.” The phone line went dead. Genji felt a twang of guilt pass through him as Hana’s message with directions illuminated his screen.

Winston was a rational creature. He would understand the need to socialize. His sociology class even taught him that humans were social creatures. He doubted that his mentor would be as understanding to socializing on a weekday while getting blind drunk.

Hana’s building, Meridian Hall, was at the opposite end of campus. He found himself riding up the elevator to Hana’s floor with a group of giggling girls that stole quick looks. The elevator was slow in its accent, giving him time to give them a flirty gaze in return.

The doors opened to the loud thumping of the bass. Genji was swept into the hall by the girls on the elevator and soon found himself lost to the deafening music and the drink in his hand.

_________

With one quick sentence from the idiot handyman, his tight financial situation turned into a desperate financial situation and Hanzo felt the anxiety rise inside of him to levels he had not felt in months. 

The fridge was shot, that was the bad news McCree had given him. The motor went out and would need to be replaced. The cost of replacing the motor would be enough to just buy a new damn appliance. And that was McCree being generous and not charging for his time or services.

The worse news was that the window AC unit chose that moment to also come to a sputtering end. Luckily, McCree said he could get the parts to fix that, but it would take a few days. Hanzo would have to suffer an unbearably warm autumn without comfort.

The shop was at least cool. And quiet. Genji texted him about some report that needed to be finished that night, and how he would probably be spending the night at some friends dorm.

It was a boldfaced lie.

Hanzo sighed, rolled up the sleeves to his shirt and set his phone’s playlist. He resolved that, finally, he should get to work on cleaning out the back room. He had locked up for the night. Even with the music, he would be able to hear when Genji stumbled in drunk at whatever ungodly hour he decided to come home. 

Until that time, he would stay here and work. And, he reasoned, he had a responsibility to the back room. Sooner than later he would have to deal with it. Tonight was just as good a time as ever, even if it was just to get his mind off the exploits of the younger Shimada.

He dragged a large garden statue of a gargoyle to the door and used it to prop the door open. He flipped on the lights and let out the breath he did not know he had been holding. It was not as horrendous as he previously thought. It was still a cluttered, dusty mess, but it appeared as if more valuable items had been locked away for safe keeping when the old owners left. 

His first task was to sweep up the broken glass. Behind the door was an upturned table with a snapped leg. To the best of his knowledge, the leg was already weak. It snapped and fell against the door. It was his bad luck to fall in on it in such a way which dislodged it and caused a large glass plate to smash against the floor. 

His second task was to clean up the dried blood.  
The room was smaller than he initially thought. In his head, he pictured it as an enormous black void. In reality, it was a small, white walled room with shelving against the back wall. He took stock of his new inventory: Small, intricate tables with mother of pearl inlaid in ebony wood were stacked on top of each other; a few antique toys; more statues and knickknacks; three katanas with scarlet handles and one ancient blue bow with a mostly empty quiver Hanzo knew, with the right customer, they would sell instantly. 

For the first time, Hanzo was enjoying going over the product and cataloging what was there. His favorite piece being the large twin dragon statue. It was made of an unusual blue stone that reminded him greatly of Jade, but he had never seen a stone that vibrant color before. His hand rolled over the sleek body of one of the two dragons and felt the scales under his fingers. This would have to be a piece that ended upstairs. He could not dream of parting with it now. It called to him.

Seated next to the dragon statue sat a small, brown case. “Trash,” Hanzo sneered. In that instant, he decided this would be the shelf he started work on. The idea of clearing a space away elated him. Maybe he could get one shelf priced and set out on the store room floor. He grabbed the case and lifted, surprised by the sudden weight to it. “What treasures do you hold?” Hanzo mumbled as he carried the box to the counter and laid it out

The case was latched closed. Hanzo grumbled and opened the drawer in the counter to begin to rummage in the contents there for tools. He would need a screwdriver and possibly a hammer. “Could take off the hinges,” He mumbled to himself as he turned the case over. The contents inside shifted. 

Whatever was inside was heavy and loose. 

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He set the case down and focused. Above him, he heard the floorboard give a small creek. Then silence. Hanzo’s gaze turned upward. He listened and heard nothing else. Hanzo took a deep breath, forcing the anxiety that naturally welled in his stomach to subside. “Genji?” He called out. He listened intently, hand moving to his music and turning it down. Nothing.

 

He looked down at his watch. 

10:45. 

“Maybe there was a project,” Relief spilled over him. Genji probably came home to a dark apartment, figured Hanzo had already gone to bed and was attempting to sneak in silently. For all it was worth, Genji’s stealth training was still exemplary.

He forced his shoulders to relax and evened out his breathing. It was Genji upstairs. Demons of the past only haunted him in Akande Ogundimu’s office now. They had protection and he did not have the need to look over his shoulder at every passing shadow.

Hanzo took a step to the side and pulled out the takeout menu for the establishment next door before calling out to his brother again, this time louder. “Genji! I’m in the shop! Get your ass down here and I’ll buy you dinner!” He added quickly. He set the menu at the far end of the counter. 

His music continued on, at a lower volume. Hanzo felt tense still. There was something about the night, being alone in a dimly lit store. It set his nerves on fire and made him question every flicker of light from outside. Silently, he started a mantra. It was only Genji. He was alone. It was only Genji. He was alone. The back of his knees began to ache.

He forced his mind back to the task at hand. He would find out about the case, then lock up for the night and go to bed. Genji still had not responded. It was getting late and the shop next door would be closing soon. Maybe he had his headphones on? 

Hanzo groaned. His mind could not focus. If Genji was home and did not hear him, it would cause drama. Hanzo slapped both hands to his face. “Focus!” He ordered to himself.

There was no use. He pulled out his phone and sent off a text. It was unusual for Genji to not respond to food. Genji lived for food. 

With that task finished, Hanzo set the phone back in his pocket. It was now up to Genji to come down and talk with him. He did everything in his power to inform his brother. 

He set his eye back on the case. It was an antique, but not in good shape. At one time, it would have been a deep, warm brown, but with sun damage and time, it faded into the grayed brown of an expired chocolate bar. Judging from the hard case, it was probably from the seventies. His grandmother had a similar case to this where she kept her makeup and jewelry while traveling by train. The hard case made it perfect for travel, as the contents would not get smashed. The hard plastic made it difficult to crack as well. If it had been in good shape, Hanzo would have gladly cleaned it up and sold it. As it was now, it smelt of age and cigarettes. It was trash.

There was a single lock on the box and easy to break apart. The hinges were thin as well, easy to pry up. It would be no challenge to open. He wondered if there would be a locked safe further in the room: A proper challenge for him.

Hanzo slipped the tip of the flathead screwdriver into the lip of the case until it was snug. He brought the palm of his hand down over the handle. The lock gave with a soft pop, the case of the lid still shut, just like he was taught. Never call attention to what you are doing. Make it all seem natural. 

“How do you like your son now, Father? Gave me the best education in the world, and I use it to jimmy open an old travel case.” He mumbled as he set the screwdriver aside. 

His knees itched. His brain was telling him to run and escape. Hide. He stole a glance up at his dark store. Nothing was amiss or out of place. He stole a look at his phone. No messages from Genji. Maybe he went right to bed?

It’s the work, Hanzo resolved. He looked back to the case that beckoned to him like a gift that demanded to be open. Hanzo let his hands roam over the top. Literal years had passed since the last time he opened something by force. The anticipation of opening something treasured and locked away was like a drug. The exhilaration of knowing that he could leave no trace.

“Please be a good surprise, not the bones of some woman’s pet,” He prayed as he slowly began to lift the lid, letting the anticipation grow. 

A click came from his left, something cold and hard pressed against his left temple. “Hold up, now. That don’t belong to you.” 

________________

Genji whistled as he walked home. Even though it was nearing October, the crispness to the air felt good as did the crunch of leaves under his feet. 

The party had been amazing. The entire floor had erupted into one massive party with strobe lights and secret mixed drinks. His favorite was the thing Hana called the flaming rabbit. He had no idea what it was beside tasted fruity and being electric pink. Her boyfriend had set up each dorm room with a separate sound system, so it was an experience to travel down the hall and, what Lucio called “A sound story.”

But the best part was when the cops came to break the party up. Everyone scattered like roaches in the light. Genji found himself backed into a room alone and decided to make a grand, mysterious exit. He transformed into the Sentai Warrior (still a stupid name) and exited out the window. He scaled down the building and into the night. Super suits, he decided, were awesome when trying to escape an amazing party.

He giggled slightly, the effects of the alcohol still running rampant through his veins as he swayed to pull the phone out of his pocket. He skimmed through the photos he had taken throughout the night and settled on one with him, Hana and her boyfriend. He sent it to Hana with the note “New BFFs 4 EVA!” before continuing on. He had not felt this good and free in months.

He just wished he could have gone home with someone. He sent another text to Hana, 

Hana responded back fairly quickly a cute little rabbit emoji. 

Genji put his phone away and stretched his arms over his head. He felt awesome walking the empty streets of the city as the Sentai Warrior. The city was practically empty on a weeknight at eleven thirty at night. With the way he looked, no one would fuck with him, and if they did, he could take them out easily. Easy peasy.

Hanzo wouldn’t wait up for him either. Schoolwork was his go-to excuse for everything, and it always worked. His brother always did have a blind spot when school was involved. Genji just had to make sure his grades were adequate and Hanzo would never question a study group.

Genji slowed his pace when he looked up. There were three people in the street, walking toward him. He jumped into an enclave, trying to escape their eye. They didn’t seem to notice him. 

Two of the figures had their attention solely on the third, an omnic who kept walking at a brisk pace. His hand gripped the plastic bag in his hand tight and held it close to his body. The omnic’s face was downturned.

“Hey now, It’s rude ta not respond when someone asked a question of you, ain’t it?” The tall, slender one stated. His hands were deep in his pockets and he walked hunched over with a slight limp, he looked up at his accomplice, a large imposing man who grunted an answer and stayed two paces behind the omnic.

“See, my buddy thinks you are bein’ rude there, ya?” The thin one swooped forward, standing in the omnic’s path and trapped him between the two bodies. Genji was able to get a clearer picture of the trio. Genji could clearly see why he walked with a limp. He wore ill fitting, dirty clothes. His pants were cut off at the knee and hung low on his thin hips.

The larger one let out a loud huff again, a mask over the lower part of his face. He seemed more put together than his partner. Cleaner and more imposing. A quiet power.

The omnic stood silently, not answering either of them. Nine dots glowed lightly on his forehead. A pang of recognition resonated through Genji as he watched. The curve of his face. The kindness in his gaze, it was the monk from before. Why was he out in this neighborhood this late at night?

“You know, Roadie,” The lanky one said. “Only one kind of gearchucker out at this time of night.”

The man, Roadie, huffed and stood up straighter, pushing his belly out. “Up ta no good,” his voice live gravel behind the mask. The omnic did not seem phased by the intimidation from either one of them. He stood in silent resolve.

The other man continued. “I ain’t one to like that, dirtyin’ up mah neighborhood. This is mah home and yer kind is makin’ this place inhospitable, right Roadie?”

Enough was enough. Genji stepped forward and out of the shadows. “Hey!” He called out. Both men turned his direction, looking right at him. Genji swallowed, drunk confidence leaving him. He swallowed, there was no turning back. He stepped forward and pointed his finger at the two. “Stop that.”

Fuck. He could have said anything and those words were the ones that poured out of his mouth. He felt his finger waver slightly under their gaze, able to smell the alcohol on his breath through the visor. This was a mistake.

The gaunt man stepped back, holding a prosthetic hand up. The other hand was still in his pocket. “Hey, mate, ain’t no harm here, just talkin’ to mah friend Zenny here, ain't that right?.”

The omnic tilted his head to the side, looking at Genji. He was still silent.

“Step away from him,” Genji took another step forward. “From where I am standing, he doesn't seem like he wants friends like you.”

The smaller man raised his eyebrows, accentuating his rat-like features. “Oi, what is that suppose ta mean?” He took a step forward, taking his other hand out of his pocket, something concealed in his hand.

Genji squared his stance, ready for an attack, sweat rolled down his back. Shit shit shit. He wasn’t looking for a fight. He just wanted them to not harass this poor monk. 

The smaller man took another step forward. A large hand clapped down on his shoulder, pulling him back as if he were a child. “Jamie,” The bigger man had a warning tone to his voice. “It’s late. Work tomorrow.”

Jamie looked back at the other man. “Aw, come on mate. Look at this tosser,” with his flesh hand he motioned over to Genji, a switchblade in his hand. “I could take ‘im.”

Roadie grunted, his hand flexing. The two stood there, staring at each other for a few minutes. Genji felt his legs turning to jelly. The smaller one he was sure he could out maneuver. He seemed hot headed and easily distracted. His fear was with the other one. The big man seemed collected. Controlled.

Jamie’s shoulders sank as his arm dropped. “Yeah well, can’t be caught causing trouble. Yer lucky, mate.” He called out, pointing the blade at Genji as the larger man turned him away.

“Night, Zen,” The big man huffed as he led the other down the street and away. 

“Mako,” the monk inclined his head to the larger man, saying the first words Genji heard from him during the whole encounter.  
Genji stood, dumbfounded. “I….are you okay?” He moved over to the monk. 

He stood there, collected and relaxed. The exact opposite of how Genji himself felt. The monk nodded. “You have my thanks,” the monk bowed to Genji slightly. “I am unharmed.”

Genji looked down the road to make sure the duo were leaving and not planning a surprise attack on him. The smaller one was flailing his arms wide and talking loudly. “And I would have taken care of him too, but you had ta stop me! It ain’t like we would get caught!”

“They are characters,” the monk let out a deep sigh, following Genji’s gaze. “But mostly harmless.”

Genji looked back to him, “But there is a chance they could have hurt you.” 

The lights on the monk’s forehead let off a light glow as he gave a low chuckle. “I found that as a whole they are mostly harmless. A lot of anger and bluster, but harmless. Mako would have stopped Jamison before things got out of hand. He is on parole. Mako is concerned about him going to jail. Jamison does not deal well with that kind of structure. I appreciate not being the target of his ire though. Thank you again, Sentai Warrior.”

A blush crept onto Genji’s cheeks. Shit. He did not have to deal with people like this. His usual work allowed him at least a small crowd, cheering him on and police officers chasing him off. One on one with someone like this monk, how was he to respond? “You are welcome….citizen.”

“Brother Tekhartha Zenyatta of the Shambali,” The monk bowed again. “My friends call me just Zenyatta.”

Genji felt himself relax slightly. “Well, Brother Tekhartha Zenyatta of the Shambali, I am the Sentai Warrior and it is my duty to escort you back home.”

“You want to make sure that trouble doesn’t follow me?” Zenyatta asked. 

“You seem like the type that attracts trouble,” Genji stayed close as he walked along side the omnic. He looked behind him. The duo had disappeared into the night. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you out this late on this side of town.”

Zenyatta chuckled again, “I must admit, I lost track of time. I was out with some colleagues and did not realize the lateness of the hour.”

“So are there more Shambali monks walking around this late at night?”

“Oh no,” Zenyatta stated. “I was at the abbey. Sister Mary Rachael hosts a poker game every Thursday. Tonight was especially heated.”

Genji let out a bark of laughter. “Doesn’t gambling go against your religious doctrine?”

“We do not gamble anything of value. Father Jones set rules right away prohibiting money. Instead, we use pretzel sticks. We do it because we enjoy each other’s company and the game.” Zenyatta stated in his cool demeanor. “I have been told I have an excellent poker face.”

Genji laughed harder, “So it is you, the priest and the old nuns-”

“And Rabbi Williams,” Zenyatta interrupted. 

Genji had to stop walking, he was laughing so hard at this point, nearly wheezing. “So what you are telling me is a priest, a rabbi and a Shambali monk walk into a cloister of nuns-”

“Tuesdays are bowling nights,” Zenyatta seemed amused. He opened the bag, letting Genji peer in. “Tonight I received my team’s new league shirt.”

Genji snorted. 

_____________

Hanzo put his hands on the counter, feeling dread pool in his stomach. Twice now he was bested in his own shop. “There is money in the register.” He said, not moving an inch. “Take it. I will not stop you.”

The assailant stayed behind him to the side. He was just out of Hanzo’s line of sight. He did not trust his abilities with a gun pressed against his head. “Push that case there to the side, nice and slow. Keep those pretty hands of yours on the counter where I can see them.”

Hanzo did as was asked. Fighting was not an option. Not yet anyway. “It is trash,” He said quietly. “Everything in here is worthless. The only thing I have is the money in the register.” His voice was even and calm. Get this over with soon, call the police. Do not engage with the man with the gun. Not unless the opportunity presents itself.

The man shifted. Hanzo could hear his clothing rustle, though he knew the attention was still on the gun to his head. A pair of handcuffs were tossed onto the counter. “Put those on and don’t turn. Hands stay on the counter, Precious.”

The gun moved away as Hanzo lifted the handcuffs and slipped them over his wrists. He placed his hands back on the counter, as instructed. These were cheap, probably purchased at some fetish shop. His eyes shifted to the side, still downcast to not arouse suspicion. He wanted to get a look at the man.

The robber wore a pair of shiny black boots with royal blue spats under a pressed pair of gray slacks. A little gold button embellished the cuffs of the pants, pinning them up to show off the spats. At the man’s side was a black leather holster for a gun. 

He moved his eyes back to the counter as the man shifted. He took a step back towards the case. “I ain’t meanin’ to harm you. I’m just aimin’ to get back what is rightfully mine.”

Hanzo’s jaw and fists clenched. He stayed still, trying to not draw any attention to himself. The man holstered the gun. “See, I wasn’t figurin’ you would be down here. I thought you would be upstairs all snug as a bug.”

“You assaulted me before,” Hanzo stated bluntly. He was able to get a good look at the man now. He was cloaked like a villain in an old movie, dressed in black and blue. His face was concealed completely. A thin black mask covered his eyes and a blue silk scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. A cape was draped over his left arm. The look was topped off with a felt black fedora with the same blue ribbon wrapped around it. He looked like a relic from the jazz age.

“Aw no,” The man slipped the gun back into his holster and opened the case to peer in. “Naw, that was a misunderstandin’. I came in and you were already laid up on the floor there. I ain’t ever harmed a hair on that pretty little head there. I was hung out and needed a good spot to stash this until the heat was down. Hard to believe you would up and buy the place. I was not expecting that.” The man cursed loudly as he examined the broken case. “Ya had to go and break the lock here. Makin’ me carry my bounty off in my pockets like some common criminal.”

“Isn’t that what you are,” Hanzo watched as the man carefully opened the case with both hands. His interest peaked as the man reached in and gingerly lifted a stunning pink diamond necklace up in his hand. A cascade of sparkling gems hit the light from the back room and illuminated his masked face. In the center was largest diamond Hanzo had ever seen, cut in the shape of a heart. 

“This, my friend, is the Heart of Numbani. Ain’t it something else?” The masked man rolled the jewels in his gloved hand, turning them over and turned the necklace, allowing the light to dance off of it. “Absolutely magnificent. Worth more’n everything you have ever owned or will ever own, I wager.”

Hanzo shifted his hands in the cuffs, covering the locking mechanism with one hand while the man’s attention was focused on his bounty. He seemed like one who enjoyed listening to himself talk. Hanzo’s fingers slowly moved to his wristwatch and pulled on the small knob on the side. A long thin wire came out with it. Hanzo’s eyes never left the masked man as he worked the wire into the lock.

The man whistled appreciatively before he slipped the jewels into a pouch at his hip. “Finally got a sweet buyer for her too.” His attention moved back to Hanzo. “Thank you kindly for letting me use your shop. I really didn’t want any of this to happen. But I can’t have you running to the phone after I leave and having cops all over me.”

Hanzo’s eyes moved to the gun at the man’s side. “What will you do with me?”

The man’s demeanor changed as he followed Hanzo’s gaze. He put two hands up. “Naw, Sweet cheeks. I don’t mean you know harm.” He stepped forward slowly. “I just need a couple hour head start. Now,” He put a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder and twisted him towards the back room. “You are going to sit all nice and pretty in there. You’ll be found in the morning, right as rain.”

The masked man stepped directly behind him and pressed his body into Hanzo’s. The scent of sandalwood and sage wafted over Hanzo. His gloved hands traveled over Hanzo’s thighs. “Just checkin’ for a phone there, Sweet thing,” He chuckled as he felt Hanzo’s body stiffen under his ministrations. “Don’t want you calling for help,” His breath was hot against Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo swallowed and let the man’s hands roam over him. 

“You aren’t locking me in that room,” Hanzo growled as he was forced forward. His fingers moved quickly against the lock, jamming the wire into it hard. The click was audible. The cuffs went slack against his wrist. 

The man must have heard it as well. His grip tightened on Hanzo’s shoulder, getting a fistful of his shirt. Hanzo moved quickly. He dropped down and brought his elbow up, into the man’s gut. The grip on his loosened as the man slumped back against the counter with a loud grunt.

With a quick turn, Hanzo rose to his full height and shot forward, throwing a punch at the man. 

The masked man managed to sidestep away as Hanzo’s fist collided with the glass case, causing it to crack. “Damn Darlin, you ain’t playing around!” The man laughed and threw a right hook at Hanzo. 

Hanzo ducked, the punch grazing the side of his face. He reached up and seized a handful of the cape around the man’s neck and spun him around, propelling him into the wall with a loud crack.

The man let out another loud grunt. Hanzo rushed again, his fist pulled back for another devastating hit. The man dropped low. He grabbed Hanzo around the middle and lifted him up, off the ground. Using his momentum, he twisted and slammed Hanzo’s back down onto the nearby table. It cracked under their combined weight, sending both men crashing to the floor in a shower of broken glass.

Hanzo let out a loud grunt, lifting his legs and catching the man’s chest, kicking him off. 

The masked man stood up straight and let out a whoop of breathless laughter. “Damn, darlin. This is the most fun I have had in a long time.” His hand reached out to brace on the wall. The light from the back room gave a golden halo around himself. Somewhere in the fight, the hat had been knocked from his head. He stood there, disheveled and impossibly strong. The scarf that covered the lower part of his face crushed, revealing a well-trimmed beard along with a grin that defined the term shit-eating.

Glass tinkled around him as Hanzo slowly moved to his feet, a slow ache building in his own muscles. He would be sore in the morning. “I am glad one of us is enjoying himself,” He growled out.

The man threw his head back and laughed again as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his large body against the doorframe to the back room. He gave a slow shrug.

Hanzo launched himself at the assailant again. He was slow this time. The man caught him by the shoulders and twisted Hanzo, slamming him into the wall of the back room. His body pressed into Hanzo’s, using his larger size to his advantage. “Sweet cheeks,” The man panted, catching both of Hanzo’s hands on his own and pinning him to the spot. “If you weren’t enjoying this as much as I am, I will eat my hat.”

Hanzo spat out a retort that was lost as hot lips crashed into his own, devouring him. The grip on his wrists tightened as the man’s body pressed deeper into his own. A thigh pressed against his hips, melding their bodies together. He should retaliate. He should headbutt the man away. Break his nose. Hanzo felt his body flush with a new heat as strong fingers teased against his own hands. 

Slowly, the man pulled back, leaving Hanzo breathless in his wake. “Who are you?” Hanzo gasped.

“Just a neighborhood Robin Hood,” The man purred out against his ear. His beard scratched against Hanzo’s neck. He felt the hair on his arms raise at the action. “Your Mystery Man. But I got to scoot, Darling.” 

The man moved quickly. Hanzo felt the leg between his shift and put him off balance. With a push, Hanzo stumbled and hit the back bookcase. He twisted to stand, snarling wildly. The man stood by the doorway again, a smirk played on his rugged features. “You are too damn cute, you know that? It’s been fun but, I won’t be seein’ you around sweetheart.” The damned hat twirled in the man’s hand and with great flourish, he set it back on his head.

“How dare you!” Hanzo felt the heat rising in his chest as he watched the fool in front of him. He grabbed the antique bow that sat beside him and raised it up, notching an arrow with the expertise of a master. “Do you think you can do such impertinence to me and walk away?” Around the corner of his eyes, the world turned a hazy shade of electric blue.

“Oh shit,” The smirk fell off the smug features. His hand moved quickly to his side belt as the arrow went flying.

The world erupted. First, a loud bang and a white light. The world disappeared, only the white twinkling of stars in front of his gaze, followed by an unearthly roar. Hanzo’s body felt heavy. The bow clattered to the ground as Hanzo went to his knees, his hands over his eyes, trying to push away the blinding light. Minutes seemed to pass as the stars dissipated and left him with a mild ringing in his ears. He looked up to the entryway.

The door was wide open. The man was gone. Hanzo groaned and moved to stand. Soft music wafted through the now silent building. Begrudgingly, he moved through his body protected. The adrenaline slowly passing from his system and leaving him with the aches in both body and pride.   
He found his phone on the ground, the face a spider web of broken glass. He grunted as he bent down to pick it up, his body protesting the simple action. The masked man was long gone by now. Escaped with his prize. 

He managed to get to his screen on enough to get to the phone and dial the police. God, he hoped insurance would pay for the damages. He leaned against the counter and panted for breath. Slowly, his eyes traveled up, to the arrow lodged in the wall.

A blue scarf dangled at the end.

_________

Genji whistled happily as he traveled down the final blocks to his apartment, the sound of police sirens not dampening his good mood. He was able to deliver the omnic home without any more incidents. He saved a citizen from evil, thwarted some would-be punks, and managed to make it home at a reasonable hour. All on his day off.

He turned and headed up the back way, transforming back into regular old Genji in the darkness of the alley. He just hoped his brother was in bed and didn’t smell the alcohol on his breath. 

He slowed his pace as he neared his home, two police officers stood there. The door to the shop wide open. He could see the flashing of red and blue lights from the front street. Dread settled in his stomach. “Hanzo!” He screamed out, pushing past the officers and ran inside.

Hanzo sat in the shop, an ice pack on the side of his head with a fully armed police officer. Both looked up as Genji ran in.

Hanzo groaned and put his hand up. “Please no yelling,” He mumbled. “I am fine, Genji, go upstairs. We are almost finished here.”

Genji looked around the broken shop. The glass counter had a large crack going through it, a table was smashed to the floor. What caught Genji’s eye though was the path of broken glass that led from the counter to the front door. The tables were turned on their side, the antiques completely shattered, as if they had exploded. It was as if a train had run through the middle of their shop. “What the fuck happened?”


	4. Genji Learns His Lesson: Becoming a Hero Is Hard Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Hanzo are reeling after the attack on the store. Both brothers must work through their own individual problems, but still, they find it hard to communicate what the real issues are.

Genji ran his hand over his face and groaned loudly as if to display to the group before him his dismay at the events. He missed classes on Friday. He got a personal call from the dean of students suggesting he took all the time he needed. His professors would pass along any relevant information and notes that he may have missed and that the first priority of Bloomington University has always been family.

Genji figured the sudden open arms policy was less to do with class attendance, and more to do with the fact that news crews rolled up early Friday morning and bombarded the broken little shop with a short piece on local businesses being targeted. It would reflect poorly on the institution if they penalized a student for helping out his family in a time of crisis.

Friday had passed easily enough. The police presence lasted into the morning, until just after the reporters came flocking, then Genji was left with the task of cleaning up the shop. Hanzo had not been in a good headspace. From what Genji could gather from the incident, Hanzo had been working late in the shop and was attacked by a robber.

Hanzo had made it seem like the masked man who attacked him did not expect Hanzo to be working so late. They had a fight. Hanzo lost.

Genji silently cursed himself all Friday morning as he worked diligently to clean up the space. It was to be his penance. And still, the space was not clean. It was just enough to board up the broken front windows and sweep glass away from the shop front. His head swam with negative thoughts. If he had been home, Hanzo would not have been working late. (Not true. Hanzo worked all hours and never stopped. The man acted like a robot). If Genji had been here, he could have been the Sentai Warrior and scared the man off (again, not likely. Hanzo didn’t have a super suit and he was terrifying on his own). A whole bunch of maybes swam in his head.

Neighbors had poured out with support for the brothers. The burger joint and the noodle shop both stopped by with heaps of food for both of them. The corner appliance store heard about the broken fridge and by Friday night, they had a new second-hand fridge. This one had an ice maker. Genji was most surprised when this little old man showed up with a bag in hand. Genji initially turned him away. He said he owned hardware store down the road, a mom and pop shop. He came with a new lock for the back door and promised to fit the front door with one once it was fixed. It was not much, but Genji felt his heart swell with pride as he told all this to his older brother. Hanzo’s mood did not improve with the sentiment.

“The big question of the hour though,” came the talking-head on the news. The sharp, male voice pulled Genji away from his quiet reflection and back to the television, “Is this, where was this so called “Sentai Warrior”?” He said it with finger quotes in the air as if his name was enough to justify the action. “He is the one that keeps stating that he is here for the people. What was going on that was more important than a vicious hit on our local economy?”

Hana rolled her eyes and turned the channel to cartoons. “Garbage,” She scoffed. Lena nodded in agreement as Hana continued. “Sentai is just a dude in a suit, not your own personal Jesus. He’s not responsible for everyone.”

Genji looked down at his hands. Where was he? Walking home an omnic monk and chatting about the bowling habits of religious leaders. The guilt settled in his stomach again. Maybe if he just called a cab for Zenyatta, he could have been home.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“Oi!” Lena’s chipper voice pulled him out once again as she shook his shoulders. “Earth to Genji, come on now, love. How many times do I have to make you say it?” She shook him harder until he cracked a smile. “Say it again.”

“Not my fault,” he echoed the words they had been repeating to him all afternoon.

“Not your fault,” Lena stated. “Not anyone’s fault who is in this building.” She pulled him into a hug and left a sloppy kiss on his temple. He laughed again. “There we are, now. Study.” She placed her large notebook in front of him. “You won’t be moping around here forever. Classes start again on Tuesday. And what happens if I don’t see you in class?”

Genji rolled his eyes, secretly loving the doting attention of his friends. He leaned into Lena and let out a dramatic sigh. “Lucio will come and kick my ass down the street and into a class.”

Lucio pointed at Genji with the pencil in his hand as he leaned forward, “Damn straight I will. I don’t even know your classes. I will kick your ass and put you in whatever class I want.” He punctuated every word with a soft jab to Genji’s chest. 

Hana snapped her gum again. She flipped the channel on the tv again, bored with the antics of cartoons and flopped back. She threw her arms and legs into the air emphatically. “Can we, like, get some grub?” She pouted and looked at Lucio. “I will die soon.”  
_______________

The noise was unbearable. Everything was unbearable. Hanzo pulled the blankets over his head, trying to push out the feeble light of the room as well as the damn noise. Genji had been kind when they returned to the apartment. He had taken thick blankets and covered the window in Hanzo’s room to block out the light. It helped with his head. His body felt drained of all strength after that fight. Even now, he felt weakened. All he wanted was quiet. 

But that was not going to happen. Not with Genji around. Genji needed to constantly be affirmed. He needed a cacophony of voices to regain normalcy.

The first one to show up early Saturday morning, just as he had poured himself his first cup of tea. She was the friend with the short hair and bubbly personality. She would just not shut up. It was as if she had to fill every waking moment with some semblance of her own voice. Hanzo had pressed the hot mug to his forehead as she prattled on and on about classes to Genji. Her bag had been filled with books and notes, supposedly from his professors. He was pleased that she was as dedicated to her studies as Genji had been. He was more thankful when she started to take her leave. Then Genji asked for some tutoring.

The other two, he decided, were just as vile. The young man came into their home only minutes following the other. His headphones draped over his shoulders and blaring a rhythmic tune of thumping music that did nothing to lessen the pounding behind his eyes. Even from the distance between them now, Hanzo could still feel the tempo of that noise throbbing in his brain. 

The third one was the worse though. Hanzo was not sure when she appeared, but one instant she was there, sitting in between Genji and the other young man. She was silent, for the most part. Her focus was on the handheld video game in her hands and her gum snapping and cracking in her mouth. 

It was the cracking and snapping that sent him over the edge. He watched the girl blow a bubble with her gum. It snapped. He snapped with it. He wanted to grab the girl’s head and dig that offending candy from her mouth and press the pink mass into her forehead until it reached through her skull and embedded itself into her brain. 

He decided his best course of action was to retreat back into the safety of his room, downed some Advil and try his best to sleep. He failed at the last endeavor.

The stale air under the covers was beginning to suffocate him. No matter what he did, he could not relax. Every time he began to drift away, his mind roared back to the shop below and the new work he forced to deal with. An insurance adjuster would be there early on Monday. He loathed the idea of leaving the place a mess until then.

He pulled the blanket back down and took a deep breath of the cool, sweet air. The air mattress shifted under him. He groaned out as his back protested the lack of proper support. He would have to use the money he had saved for a proper bedroom set on replacing product now. This whole venture now felt like a deep black hole that he just kept throwing money into.

Hanzo sat up and rubbed the palms of his hands over his face, feeling the scruff on his own face. He was due for a shave. And a shower. And probably a fresh pair of clothes. He had to pull himself together. There was only so much brooding he could do before Genji would come and try to fix him.

As he gathered a fresh outfit, it dawned on him. The apartment was quiet. Joyously quiet. He moved over to the door and cracked it open, finding the television off, and the spot around the small coffee table empty. They had all gone. Without telling him.

Hanzo silently thanked every being in the universe for this small gift and headed into the bathroom. The AC was still out. McCree would be there sometime that week to fix that issue. For now, the apartment had all the windows open wide open and a warm breeze moved through the apartment. Hanzo could not deal with the humidity and heat all at once. Leaving the door open was the best bet to keep himself comfortable. He started with a quick shave, meticulously grooming his beard back into its sculpted shape. 

Next, he stepped into the shower. The hot water blasted into his sore shoulders and messaged some of the tension away. He languished in the water, for once not caring about the time he spent in the hot water. It was calming in this small space. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

__________

“So, is your brother okay?”

Genji was pulled once again from his head, focusing his attention instead on Lucio as they walked down the street. “What’s that?”

“Your brother,”Lucio repeated himself. “Is he okay?” Dude seemed pretty messed up.”

Genji gave a shrug. “I guess so. I mean, that is his normal response to bad things. He gets angry, holes himself away until he decides he is better.”

A glance was shared between the two walking with him before Lena stepped forward, placing her hand on Genji’s shoulder. “Luv, that doesn’t sound very healthy.”

“No, I know. That is just Hanzo’s way. He just needs to control the situation. Once he’s in control, he is fine. Trust me, Hanzo’s dealt with worse. We are Shimadas. We endure.”

Lena looped her arm around Genji’s and silently watched him, her head on his shoulder. “You told me before you had a brother. I was expecting someone very different than him.”

Genji dropped his arm over Lena’s shoulder and walked with her hugged to his side. “I was in the foster system for a while there. I had a really great family that already had a son and he kind of became my other brother. I still call him my big brother, even though I haven’t heard from him in years.”

Lucio’s arm dropped over Genji’s shoulder as the three of them took up the length of the sidewalk. It made an awkward picture, Lena’s arms wrapped around Genji as he half held her with Lucio’s arm over his, tripping over each other’s feet every few paces. “You know, man, you can talk to us about these things. No judgment here.”

Genji rolled his eyes. “Fine, if you want my whole tragic backstory.” He cleared his throat and began, “Our parents died when I was six. It was weird because I remember everyone being sad around me, but I didn’t really understand it myself. Our parents were usually gone for work, and I didn’t see how this was different. Death was what I saw in movies and it was never permanent, you know?” He looked to the two of them and saw them nod in understanding.

“Hanzo got it, though. He was, like, nine maybe? I just,” He paused, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. It had been years since the last time he had to say this rehearsed story. I just remember how still he was through the whole funeral. When we got home, he sat in his room for days. Our father’s brother eventually took us in. We became his burden.”

Genji felt Lucio’s arm tighten over his shoulder. He leaned into the embrace. Genji felt something inside him give. His memories begged to be told. “He was a jerk to us. Called us ungrateful and blah, blah, blah. Really what it was, was that he was no good with kids. He didn’t have a family of his own, and suddenly his brother’s kids were in his apartment. It was a big space, but not with two kids. Everything was clean lines and fragile. I was not good in that kind of environment. It wasn’t bad. It was just okay. Hanzo would say that it was a home and we were together. That was the most important thing,” Genji paused. He took a deep sigh. “We were a family still.”

“Anyway, when I was eight there was an accident and Hanzo and I were sent to different homes. I was bounced a few times, but at twelve they found a good place for me. Two dads and an older brother. It was like a dream. They lived in the suburbs with this huge yard. I remember seeing it and comparing it to all the other shitholes I had been to and finally found a place that looked like a home. My brother there, he was just way overprotective of me, but he was like me and always in trouble. It was the first time since my real parents I felt connected to the people around me. They were even talking about adoption. Keeping me forever.”

Genji looked down at the cracks in the sidewalk. He absently wondered when they stopped moving. “Hanzo then turned eighteen and got parental rights and I had to move in with him.”

Genji let out a laugh and wiggled out of the hold the two of them had. “So now you have my tragic origin story! Enough sad! I am done with sad.” He smiled wildly, “Hana gave you two the direction to this restaurant, where is it? I’m starved”

Lucio stepped forward and ruffled the neon green hair. “Not far, my dude. Just up another block.”

Genji sighed and linked his arm with Lucio’s, leaning against him as the trio continued on. He was hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion. He didn’t feel like he kept his past a secret, but he knew the pity that would come from people learning about it. Lucio and Lena were good people though. They seemed to genuinely care. He at least hoped they did. “You realize you both now owe me your own tragic backstories, right? I think I have earned that.”

___________

Hanzo stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel loosely around his hips. Silence. Peace. No one was there. He stepped out and sighed contently at the warm breeze that came in through the window and onto his still wet body. 

That is when he heard the pop. And the soft electronic music of the hand held video game. “Hey there, Daddy-o.”

He never realized a man could blush from ears to ankles before. He whipped around and saw the girl with the gum sitting on the counter, her eyes focused on the game in her hands. “Jiji went out with them to get dinner. I figured you reached your limit with people.”

Hanzo gripped the end of the towel tighter as the girl continued, “I hung back. Hope it’s ok.” She blew a massive pink bubble. Her eyes never wavered off her game. “Awesome tattoo, BTW.”

His body and brain finally connected. Hanzo rushed into his room and slammed the door, leaning his head against the thin wood. Her voice wafted through “I wasn’t looking though! I’m not a massive pervert!”

Mortification. Humiliation. Hanzo grabbed some clean clothes out of the hamper and pulled them on, not caring if they matched. How could he be so foolish to not check that one of Genji’s loud friends stayed behind? How stupid was he? 

No wonder someone got the drop on you.

Hanzo put his palms over his eyes and pressed until he was stars. He prayed Genji would come in. They were all so loud, the girl would then lose interest in the fact that Hanzo just showered with the door open. Shit. 

He had to have been making noise while he worked out his sore muscles. It must have sounded like he was masturbating. 

Oh, thank the heavens he hadn’t decided to do that.

“Are you going to hide in there all day or...what?” The light voice came through the door again. 

Or what?

Hanzo begrudgingly opened the door and stepped out. The girl was still seated on the kitchen counter with the game. Next to her were two steaming mugs of tea. The gum snapped again. “You seem like a dude that is twenty-five going on forty.” She hopped down. The game slipped into the back pocket of her jeans. “I figured the best way to deal with you is the same way I deal with my Grandmother.” She motioned to the kettle on the stove.

“I am not your grandmother,” Hanzo stated as he took up a mug. The scent of warm green chamomile relaxed him even before taking his first sip. The girl still did not look at him directly. He was unsure if it was due to his personality or the shower.

“No, but you have her same stubborn temperament,” Hana rolled her eyes and picked up her own mug. Her voice was softer than before. Her posture as well was more reserved. “And her solution to everything was tea. You have a cold? Tea. Headache? Tea. Lost limb? Tea. Tea is always the solution.” 

Hanzo chuckled and moved back into the sitting room. He grunted as he moved to sit on the floor. “She sounds an awful lot like my own grandmother.”

Hana moved to sit across from him, still keeping a distance between them. It was a stark difference to how she was with Genji. She came in with a loud, boisterous attitude. She clung to Genji and laughed loud enough to shake the pictures off the wall. The young woman that sat before him was none of those things. She sat straight and proper as she sipped her tea. She took a small sip of her tea before speaking, “Lena and Lucio took Genji out to get dinner. He was kind of freaking out.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“He already had two people, a third one would just be too many to just pick up some food. Plus, if I went, I would have missed seeing all that. Again, your tattoo is boss.”

Hanzo chuckled and held out his arm, showing the younger girl the detailed workings. “Dragons,” He explained as he rolled the short sleeve up to give her a detailed view of the whole thing. “I did mine before Genji did his.”

She leaned over and nodded in approval before lifting her shirt and pulled down the waistband of her jeans, showing off a tiny mech Hello Kitty on her hip that was surrounded by sugar pink hearts and blue stars. “Cute and dangerous,” She settled herself back. “They are going to be back with food soon, so I wanted to tell you this before they come back: Genji is really worried about you. And it’s more than just all this. He worries that you don’t have friends or do anything but work. Just...that is just something to think about.”

______________

“Go over it again,” Hanzo crossed his arms over his chest and stood in the broken shop, looking down at Genji. “What do you do?”

Genji leaned on the cracked glass counter and looked at his nails, pretending to give them more attention than his brother, “I give the insurance agent the paperwork from the police as well as the receipts detailing the lost inventory. I do not crack crass jokes. I do not draw attention to my green hair. I will make pleasant, adult small talk over such topics as; local sports teams, the weather and weekend plans.”

Hanzo nodded, “He is just here to get the details and to give you the check. Once you have it, if I am not back, bring it to the apartment and leave it with my books. Do not leave it down here-”

“It is unsafe to leave it in the shop without a lock and key,” Genji scowled as he finished his brother’s sentence and looked remarkably like his brother when he did so. He relaxed and stood up straight. “Listen, it is talking to a guy about giving us money so we can fix this place. I am a people-person, Hanzo. This is my wheelhouse.” He moved over and handed Hanzo a water bottle. “Go run. Find a gym. Work out. Do something. I swear I got this one for you.”

Hanzo’s hand tightened around the bottle and he looked down at himself. He had been neglecting his workout routine, Genji was correct in that regard. Maybe this would give him a sense of normalcy again. Control. 

He gave a quick nod and turned, heading out to the back alley and down the street. A park was near with winding trails that he could jog for hours without needing to stop. He had wanted to explore the city more when he got a chance. Today, the opportunity was given to him. It wasn’t like he could sit back in the apartment and wait for Genji to complete the task.

The walk to the park was pleasant, the late morning air was still crisp, but judging by the way the sun beat down on his neck, it was shaping up to be rather warm. Cars whizzed by. No one gave him another look. He was just another man on his way to a morning workout before actually going to work.

He looked down to his phone as he passed by a 24-hour gym. He unwound the earbuds and looked for his running playlist. The doors of the gym were wide open. It allowed him the chance to look inside at the facilities. Rows of treadmills and elliptical machines sat at one corner of the room, next to the ceiling high mirrors and a row of weights. It seemed well stocked.

Hanzo made a mental note to come by later when he wasn’t already on his way someplace to check it out further. So far, his task of finding a decent dojo was met with questions on how old his child was. It seemed most martial arts studios were aimed more towards youth than adults who wanted to train. 

“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Hanzo turned as he heard that now familiar southern drawl. Jesse McCree leaned against the doorframe of the gym and was mopping the sweat from his forehead. He was dressed in worn, gray sweatpants and a thin white shirt. He was all sweet smiles and a large black and blue mark on the side of his face. 

“McCree,” He nodded a greeting to him. “It has been not been that long since we last spoke.”

McCree pushed off the wall and stepped towards him, “Did you get the new fridge? I called in a few favors after I heard about what happened to y’all.” He reached up, as if to fiddle with a hat, but found none. Instead, he awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. 

Hanzo stood in silence for a moment. “Yes,” He said when he saw McCree shift. “The appliance was installed on Friday. There was no need for you to call in any favors on my account.”

McCree broke into another brilliant smile as he waved Hanzo off with a big sweeping motion with his mechanical arm, “Hell, Darlin’ it ain’t no thing. I just didn’t want you thinking this is a bad neighborhood or nothin’. Here, we like to take care of each other. This is our family.”

The corner of Hanzo’s mouth twitched at his exuberant display as he chuckled. “Your neighborhood more than took care of my brother and me in our time of need.” His eye was drawn to the bruise that marred McCree’s features.

The man flushed red and touched the side of his face to obscure it from view. “That is good ta hear. I like people knowing this place is fucking close to Sesame Street. We just ain’t got the muppets.”

A smile crossed over Hanzo’s features at the comparison of the neighborhood, where nightly he had to shoo away drunks peeing against the wall and the idyllic urban setting of children’s programming. “My apartment is still hot, Jesse McCree. You owe me an air conditioning unit as well.”

“Well shit, ain’t you a dog with a bone. I’ve been running all over hell’s half acre getting you that fridge and you come at me about the busted air conditioner,” there was a wide smile on his face as he spoke. “So what brings you round this way?” He was quick to change the subject. “I didn’t know you worked out.”

Hanzo looked down at his tight runners pants and loose, blue tank top. “You are joking, right? Did you think that I naturally am this toned?”

“Mmm,” McCree nodded and moved over, flexing his own arms. “Oh, look at me, I’m Hanzo and I am cut like a fucking marble statue. Look upon the pinnacle of manliness and despair, mortals.”

Hanzo snorted and covered his mouth, “You are ridiculous.” He waved and turned away. “This god must go for his routine run.”

“D’ya mind having someone tag along?” McCree asked as he followed close behind. 

Hanzo rolled his eyes and slipped his phone securely into his pocket. “You know, a run generally does not have conversations.” He looked McCree over again, “And you look like you were finishing your workout.”

“Ya got me,” McCree smiled at him, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rose up, over his belly, showing off the dark hair on his tanned skin. “I was finishing up, then this ray of sunshine walked by and I realized I couldn’t let ya walk away without sayin’ hi.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are a bit of a cajoler?” 

“Every damn day,” McCree smiled.

Hanzo smiled and rolled his eyes as he walked into the park with the other. He enjoyed the quietness of the park, compared to the ever present noise of the city. He closed his eyes and listened to the wind blow through the leaves on the trees. There was a dry rustle and crunch from the trees, signaling the coming of fall. 

“So I gotta confess,” McCree’s deep drawl broke the peace, “I ain’t one for runs, but this seems pretty low-key.”

“You seem more interested in talking than running,” Hanzo hummed. “Besides, I think if I started running and you tried to keep pace with me, your heart would literally explode. You don’t seem like you run often.”

“I’ve been meaning to put running on my workout regimen, but damn, running sucks. When your done everything hurts and your legs burn and your lungs are all fucked up and you want to puke.” He shook his head. “I’m more of a boxing man.” McCree put up his fists as he dropped into a stance and gave a few quick jabs. “You know, all brawn and upper body strength,” he made another few jabs with his fists and bounced on the balls of his feet. “But it ain’t enough.”

“Your form looks nice,” Hanzo stated. “What is the issue?”

McCree motioned to the side of his face, to the purple bruise on his temple and down to his jaw. “Misjudged how fast my opponent was last time I got into it. Got the living tar knocked outta me. I use to be lightning fast when I was a kid, but I’ve,” He searched for the word and looked up to the trees. “I’ve bulked up since then.”

“All strength, no stamina, and speed,” Hanzo concluded.   
“Darlin, my stamina is nothing to sneeze at,” He pointed a finger at him. “And I ain’t ever had any complaints on that end of things. I just need more agility. I can’t just action roll away from all my problems.”

McCree stretched his arms over his head again. This time, Hanzo’s side gaze lingered on his companion. McCree was starting to become a constant in his day, but he had not taken the time to appreciate the other’s appearance. Jesse McCree was tawny skin and broad shoulders. Hanzo thought there was a slight roll of fat there from a poor diet and lack of exercise. He never once considered a quiet strength beneath all that.

He swallowed and drew his eyes away, instead he looked to the path ahead. “We are going to run now. Just for a kilometer. Think you can handle that?” He smirked back at him before taking off.

___________

Genji tried. He really tried to listen to everything the insurance adjuster said to him, but it all was just so boring. 

The man arrived around eight, a pale, wiry man in an oversized gray suit. It was apparent the man had dropped a ton of weight recently but had not tailored his suits to fit his new physique. His hair was a thinning, unnatural brown color. Dyed. He must have done it from a bottle though, as it was uneven. Any salon would have color matched his hair. Unless they were just as bored of the man as Genji was and fell asleep halfway through his quiet assessment of the value of their store.

Genji idly played with the photos in front of him that were supplied by the police. Large printouts of the broken tables with merchandise lying in the rubble. The receipts were laid out as well. Those were the first thing this man looked at. He came in and introduced himself quietly, gave Genji a limp wristed handshake and went right to valuing their livelihood.

In a way, it felt very demeaning. The man made little noises as he researched different things on his computer. He made big, sweeping circles on the receipts of certain items. He even toured the building and looked at the broken windows, as if daring Genji to admit that, no, not all the front windows burst out and that it was all an elaborate rouse to get fast cash. 

He never said that though. He never once gave Genji a look to have him believe that. It was all in Genji’s head.

He then started detailing off businesses the insurance company would cover and the cost to replace individual items of need in the store. It could all be purchased wholesale. Tables were valued at $100 a piece. The countertop displays could all be replaced for about fifty. 

Genji covered his mouth to keep from speaking out. He listened and felt his heart drop at the man’s adding. Hanzo said it would be expensive to rebuild, but insurance would cover it. It was why they had insurance, to begin with.

“The police report states that there were three windows blown out. I only see two.”

Genji looked over and counted the front windows. “Well,” He said after recounting again. There were only two front windows to the building. “Did they mention the door? The glass door was blown out. Maybe it’s a typo?”

The adjuster’s lips pursed and he looked down at his notes. “No, it does not state a door here.” He began to write furiously in his notepad. “Door replacement is…” He pulled out his tablet computer again and once again, the shop was silent.

Genji leaned against the broken counter and heard it creak under his weight. Glass countertops were valued at $249.94. 

“So,” Genji swallowed and put on his most brilliant smile. He was the people person. If either of them was going to get a deal, it would be him. People gravitated to Genji. They liked Genji. The adjuster looked up. “How much are we looking to get here? Ballpark range.”

The man frowned. “I do not give ballpark estimates. But, with the extensive damage to the building itself, the loss of property as well as merchandise, you will get a check within the week. I have made note that this is an actual robbery and you will be compensated for your loss.

Genji let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. “Thank-”

“But,” the man cut him off. “Since this is the second break in, your monthly rates will increase.”

Genji felt anxiety well in his chest again. He frowned deeply. “What are you talking about? We were robbed on Thursday. There wasn’t another incident, just the one time. My brother had doctor’s bills to prove that is when it happened. 

The adjuster flipped through his notes, “No, it popped up when I looked you up. This is the second time we have been called to this exact location. I double checked the records and everything. Police reports were made both times.

“Then it was the previous owner. You can’t penalize us for something that happened before we are owners.”

The adjuster let out a deep sigh, “Sir,” he stated calmly, his next words came out scripted, as if he were an actor reciting his lines. “Insurance rates go up in places that have high risks. This place has been burgled twice in the last six months. Luckily for you, the first breaking and entering did not have us come out to assess damage. We just had to pay out for a broken lock. A second time in less than a month for us to come out shows a pattern of either neglect or that this is a risky neighborhood.

“Your report does state that the two incidents look to be unrelated. There is no issue at this time to think that either you or your brother are neglectful, just….unlucky.”

Blood pooled from his face to his stomach as he felt his intestines twist as the man spoke in front of him. “The first time happened when?”

The adjuster flipped the page of his notes again. “A month ago, give or take. A mister Hanzo Shimada signed off on the final payout amount, 43.56 for the deadbolt, another 86 dollars to install it.”

Genji nodded slowly and rested himself back on the counter. “I see,” he said quietly.

The adjuster moved over and set out the receipts and his calculator, “Kid,” His voice was softer now, more human and agent. “We will fix everything up properly. Our workers will come out and install the new door and windows. We will have our guys set up the tables and give you enough to restock your merchandise.” A hand fell onto his shoulder. “You have insurance to take care of these things, right? Your rates will go up a little bit for now, but they are not fixed.”

Genji looked at the man and nodded. The man pulled out some paperwork and made a detailed list of what was to be replaced, what was to be repaired and the amount of labor that would go into either of the two. He handed the paperwork over to Genji. “This is just the initial plan. I will go back to home office now and start getting all this worked out. I’ll be back later this week with a final estimation for you to sign, then we will cut you a check.”

Genji nodded and signed the bottom of the page. The man pulled off a pink carbon copy and handed it to Genji, “For your records,” before packing everything back into the briefcase he came with and headed out.

He stood in silence, his eyes on the cardboard covered door. He waited for Hanzo to return. What would he say to him when he saw him? 

Why didn’t you tell me about the first break in? You made me look like an idiot in front of the insurance people. What the everliving fuck is wrong with you? 

Don’t you trust me?

Genji picked up the broom from the corner and went to sweep the shop again. All shards of glass were gone. The broken tables had been put into the dumpster. There was no need to clean the shop again, but Genji felt compelled. Why did Hanzo just not tell him about this? Did he think it was not that big of a deal? 

Maybe it wasn’t, his brain said. It was a lock that needed to be replaced. A month ago they were just getting settled and moving in. It could have been an already bad lock. A cheap lock the landlord installed.

Genji moved to the back room and flipped on the lights before grabbing some of the higher quality junk and began to set it out to fill in the blank spaces. Baskets and statues were set out with even spacing between them, to give the illusion of fullness here, when there really was none. Or maybe he was just so used to the overfilled tops of the counters, that now it was at a reasonable fullness, it seemed barren.

He set aside the dragon statue he found in the back. The dual dragons wound around each other in an intricate, stone knot. They looked prepared to attack. It seemed like something his brother would enjoy.

At least they both agreed that maybe the best thing to happen to them was for some asshole to smash everything they had to sell. It was all shitty and old. Genji even joked that they could sell cooler antique stuff, like old video game systems and arcade cabinets. Vintage lunchboxes. Hanzo had laughed at that.

It was a quarter past eleven when the back door opened and Hanzo’s voice called out as he stomped up the stairs. Genji set the broom back and grabbed the pink estimate before following his brother’s lead. 

Genji stopped when he got to the back door, his eye on the gold deadbolt. The side of the door was patched with new drywall and spackle. He ran his fingers over the rough, unfinished edge. How had he not seen this before? Someone installed a whole new metal lock recently.

Hanzo called from the apartment down the stairs. Genji responded and turned back to the shop. His eye fell on the dragon again. His brother was very much like that statue. He was constantly coiled and ready to strike. He was elegant and sophisticated, but also cold and hard. He moved in and scooped the large statue into both his hands. Maybe it would soften the blow of rates going up to appease him with presents.

___________

Hanzo had all the windows open by the time Genji entered. His face was buried in his phone though, his fingers moving over the screen “How did it go?” Hanzo asked, his gaze never left the phone as he stood by the window, his back facing Genji in an attempt to hide what he was doing. He quickly finished whatever message he was working on and slipped it back into his pocket. Sweat clung to the back of Hanzo’s shirt. He turned and fanned himself with the fabric. His hair was stuck to the sides of his face and he was slightly red.

Genji sat the dragon statue and the estimate on the counter. He took great care with making sure both were lined up. He felt his heart beating in his throat. What if the adjuster’s kindness at the end was a trick? What if that was his way to make him sign a bad deal. 

What if Hanzo got angry? 

He shivered at the thought. His hand went to his side as a phantom pain pinged through his core.

“Good run?” Genji asked to get himself out of that headspace.

Hanzo nodded and moved to the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of water. “Good run,” he echoed. Genji watched him as he went about pouring himself a glass and drinking it down. “It is getting hot out there.”

Genji narrowed his eyes and looked at his brother. For once, he did not come back scowling. Genji was used to the hypercritical nature of Hanzo Shimada. He was used to hearing how every run, Hanzo could have pushed himself further. How after every sparring match, Hanzo should have taken fewer hits.

Hanzo never had a good run.

His attention turned back to the insurance, “I tried my best, brother,” his hands moved over the paper to flatten out the creases he put there. “He came in and assessed all the furniture and measured the windows and looked at our receipts-”

Hanzo picked the paper out of Genji’s hand and looked it over, “That is a nice estimate.” He nodded in approval. “More than what I was expecting. Did he argue with you at all?”

Genji shook his head. “Our rates will go up.” He felt his eyes downcast. He did not want to see the disapproval in Hanzo’s features.

Hanzo nodded. “I am estimating a five percent increase. What did he say?”

Genji looked up. Still, now, Hanzo was not scowling. He flipped the paper over and read the fine print. “He did not say, brother.”

Hanzo nodded again. “I guess we will have to see on our next bill. He is not in charge of that, he just makes an estimation.” Hanzo’s hand came down on his shoulder and gave a quick pat before his phone gave a soft ‘ding’.  
Hanzo’s hand twitches as it made a quick grab for his pocket before correcting the action. He slowly removed his hand from Genji’s shoulder and went to put the pitcher back in the fridge. The phone dinged again and again.

Genji’s eye rested on his brother’s pocket as the older Shimada fumbled with pulling it out. “So...who’s texting you?” He asked. 

Hanzo flushed red. Genji raised both eyebrows. His brother rarely got flustered, especially over something as mundane as a text. “Hanzo Shimada, are you,” He gasped dramatically and moved over. “Texting a boy?”

His ears went pink, “No, you fool. I ran into the handyman. I am setting up a time for him to fix the air conditioner.”

Genji slinked over to him and dropped an arm on Hanzo’s shoulder as he made an obvious peer at his phone. “Oh, your handyman again. You seem to ‘run into’ him a lot.” He made air quotes to emphasize his point and smiled wide. “Seriously dude, if you are out there getting laid, good on you. No judgment here.”

Hanzo pushed him off. “I am doing no such thing. It was a coincidence that I happened to run into him.” The phone dinged again and Hanzo cursed.

“Look,” Genji sighed and moved back to the dragon statue, patting its head. “You obviously like the guy. Just ask him out. Even if it’s as a friend, ask him to go do something. A movie. A bar. Fucking. Whatever. He seems good for you.” Genji’s phone gave off an obnoxious scream of a wild ape that caused Hanzo to jump. He dug it out and saw a message from Winston, asking him to meet on the roof. “Speaking of which, I have my own personal matters to attend to if you know what I mean.” He winked and ran from the apartment but not before punching Hanzo in the arm once. Hard.

Hanzo slugged him back. “Fine!” He called out after him. “I’ll call him!”

Once outside, Genji made sure to latch the door tight before he scaled the wall like it was a rock wall at the gym and not made of brick and mortar. The sight would have been humorous to anyone looking down on the scene. Days earlier, Genji found two beach chairs by the dumpster. While faded and old looking, they were still comfortable. He snagged them both and hauled them on his back up to the roof of the building. Winston sat in one of those chairs now, a big sun umbrella over him as he thumbed through the screens of his tablet.

“Yo!” Genji dropped into the other chair and kicked his legs up. 

“You seem to be in a much better place today,” Winston sat up more and set his tablet down. “Did having your friends around help?”

Genji shrugged a little. “Hey, Sentai Warrior is everyone’s big damn hero. If I wanna continue making an impression, I gotta keep it up.” His smile wavered. “But I want to find the guy that hurt my brother. I should have been here to help him and I wasn’t.”

Winston picked up the tablet again. “I have some good news for you then. Across the street is an ATM. They are recorded at all times.” He tapped a few times to bring up video and handed it to Genji. “I was able to infiltrate their system. I got the video of the other night.”

Genji moved under the umbrella to shield the screen from the light and pressed play on the video. A street lamp illuminated the ATM. Winston pointed to the shop, near the back of the video and slightly out of focus. Genji brought it closer to his face and watched. There was a bright pop of light through the front windows, then the front door of the shop was thrown open wide as a figure stumbled out in a full run. He runs towards the camera. The soft lighting of the shop suddenly erupted into a bright flash that blinded the cameras. When the light faded back, the man was gone. The whole video lasted twenty seconds.

“Can I see it again.” He handed it back to Winston. “I want to see the man. Just the man.”

Winston nodded and zoomed in on the area of the video where the man ran by. He handed it back to Genji. Genji watched for the second time. The man wore black or dark gray. The video made it hard to decipher what was happening with the drowned out colors and grainy image. The man ran by the ATM, his head down. His gloved hand held the hat to the top of his head. His face was completely obscured. Genji watched it several more times before handing it back to Winston. “What was the light?” He asked.

Winston took it back “The first light or the second light?” He brought up the first quick flash and zoomed in on the shop. They watched it together a few times. It was a quick pop of light, lasting less than a second. It was quick and bright. “A flash grenade?” Winston said, “Or something similar?”

“Is there any sound?” 

Winston shook his head. “Let me look into it. Maybe I can find a security camera with audio.” He moved the video forward to the second flash and handed the tablet back to Genji again.

The second viewing in slow motion allowed Genji to focus on the details. The man stumbled out of the front door once again. It looked as if he tripped over something as he took off in a dead run. Even though his face was turned upwards in this shot, it was too far away for him to notice any features that would be identifiable. The door swung shut and Genji could see the reflection in the glass. The man was three long steps away from the building when another flash erupted from within the building. 

Then the front windows bowed. The glass then erupted into a million shards. It was almost as if the room itself could not contain the magnitude of the light as if it had formed. The screen then whited out.

“Did you see that?” Winston asked.

Genji shrugged. “Did I see what? The windows bowing?”

“No,” Winston rewound the video and pointed. “Look there, at the window. You can see inside. Faintly.”

Genji zoomed in more. It blurred the video, but he could see it. The light was not white. It was blue, a very light blue. “What is that?” He leaned in and looked closely, bringing the video back and watching it again. The blue form, it never exited the building. Instead, it pressed against the windows. The blue caused them to arc. 

When the windows shattered, he could see the blue move. He could visibly see it swirl, moving across the window and back into the shop. “What is that?” He gasped and paused it. He looked over to Winston.

“I haven’t a clue,” Winston stated. “Not a clue what it could be. But it is huge and….alive.”

Genji covered his face and set the tablet aside again, “So, a monster was in my brother’s shop that day. Whoever this asshole that attacked him has had some kind of magical monster.”

“Did your brother talk at all about that night?”

Genji shook his head. “No. I showed up and the police were there. Hanzo said that he and the robber fought and that was when everything was broken.” Genji sighed deeply again and shook his head. “He said he doesn’t remember much. I don’t know what happened.”

“I have one final thing,” Winston stated and pulled up police reports on his tablet. “This is not the first time a place was robbed by a masked man.” 

Genji scrolled through the police reports. Each one did not have a single witness, but security cameras caught a man in black fleeing the scene. The description of the suspect was vague. Male. Approximately 20-40 years old. Between five feet, seven inches and six feet five inches tall. Race unknown. Weight, approximately 200 pounds. He left no forensics evidence and the only evidence he had been there was that something of value had been stolen.

“Why have I not heard about this on the news?” Genji asked.

“Because the police do not want this information getting out. It would cause a public panic,” He flipped to another document in the tablet and held out. It was a confidential email from the chief of police to the other officers. “Twenty years ago, some masked vigilantes started to take justice into their own hands. They saw the police as ineffective with dealing with organized crime. As it turned out, there were a lot of dirty cops willing to look the other way.

“The police are convinced that what happened back then was some citizen took the law into their own hands and it ended up getting some innocent people hurt and killed. The police are concerned that releasing information about a masked man robbing all these jewelry stores is going to end up with citizens taking justice into their own hands.”

“Oh,” Genji nodded and looked out at the skyline of the city. “So they are worried some dumb kid is going to get a big old message to protect and save the city and dress up like a preying mantis and totally do their job for them.”

“Basically,” Winston nodded. “So we keep doing what we need to do. You protect the city. I will keep a close eye on our friends in law enforcement. They are not speaking out about the Sentai Warrior at all though, they believe you are an omnic.”

Genji leaned forward and locked his fingers. He suddenly needed to do something with his hands. “Omnics also think I am an omnic. Why would me being an omnic matter?”

“Mostly they are afraid. Omnic and human relations in the city are peaceful but tense. Humans do not want omnics moving into their neighborhoods. Some omnics want to have omnic only areas of the city. There was a huge backlash from some omnics showed interest in joining the police force. 

“The police are most concerned of brawls in the street. Right now, the Sentai Warrior has been nothing but a positive force in the city. People like the idea of a masked hero that will swoop in and save them. The police see you as an omnic wanting to stop purse snatchers and jaywalkers. You help old ladies cross the street. To them, you are an omnic wanting to be good in a system that will not let you. You aren’t dangerous, Genji.

Genji shrugged, “Guess that means I should suit up and do the whole friendly neighborhood Sentai Warrior gig, huh?”

“Regardless of people’s impression of you, be that force of good.” Winston smiled and stood up, stretching his long arms over his head. “Just allow people to believe what they want to about you. Be kind and good and stop purse snatchers. Let me find out more about this masked man. I have several other security systems I can lock into. I’ll get you information.” 

Genji smirked and waved to Winston. “I’m glad you believe in me enough to let me go out on my own, my dude.” He winked as he pulled out the green coin. He let his thumb rub over the course bumps and ridges. “I expect some good information when I come back. He winked and transformed.

The afternoon went well. Genji helped a man find his lost car (it was parked just down the block). Other than that, the day was dull. He kept mostly to the rooftops after an elderly woman called him over and made him carry her groceries up to her sixth-floor apartment. He didn’t mind helping and making a good name for himself, but he did not want to be known as just a boy scout that ran errands. 

A chorus of screams snapped Genji back to attention. It rang out inside his helmet, almost as if the suit was warning him. It was rush hour, the sun was starting to creep over the backsides of the buildings and cast long shadows along the street. The city streets were packed with cars and pedestrians on their way home. The noise was not unusual for this time of day, but multiple people screaming out at once. He ran and heard a loud crunch of metal on metal.

The cars were all stopped at a red light. A gold color car’s tires screeched as it reversed away and slammed into the car behind it before it swerved into the sidewalk. Genji sprinted to the end of the building. He watched as the pedestrians screamed and jumped out of the way as the engine revved, the tires screamed against the concrete and the car bolted forward and, miraculously, missed all oncoming traffic and people. 

Genji swung down from the building and hit the pavement and into a dead sprint. He brushed passed trembling people and kept his gaze locked on that car, not allowing it to get out of his sight. Behind him, he could hear the whine of police sirens. There was no way they could make it through this crowd. 

He vaulted over an oncoming car as he crossed the street and landed hard with a grunt. He stumbled forward, his attention focused on the gold car ahead of him. It swerved off the sidewalk and back into traffic. Cars swerved to avoid another collision and their horns blared. It swiped a parked car and shower glass onto the pavement as the car bounced over the opposite curb and smashed into the side of a building.

Genji was near. His suit gave him the power to run at superhuman speeds. He grabbed at the back trunk of the car as it was thrown into reverse. The driver hit the accelerator and the tires screeched. Genji dug his heels into the pavement and was dragged backward and smashed into another parked car. 

He grunted at the impact and the feeling of metal smashing around his body, but no pain. Adrenaline or the suit, he wasn’t sure which kept him from falling. His fingers dug into the metal, bending and collapsing it as if it were paper under his fingers as the car took off again down the street. Genji snarled and pulled himself up, onto the trunk and brought his fist down on the back windshield, shattering it in an instant. The safety glass bent around his fist as he punched again. It peeled away easily in his hand.

The sirens were still a distance away. The driver veered hard to the right, causing Genji to slide along the back hood. He growled and dove into the back seat. “Pull over!” He ordered.

“Punk ass!” The driver turned and took his hands off the wheel to punch Genji square in the mask. His other hand raised up, gun in hand. Genji didn’t have time to deflect the hit. His gaze was on the young driver of the car. He couldn’t have been much older than thirteen. A scrawny little thing with greasy, neon blue hair and dark brown roots. His dark eyes were glazed and furious. The boy’s fists flew again, his attention not on the road ahead.

Genji cried out and dove forward and into the passenger seat, grabbing the wheel and swerving to avoid going back onto the sidewalk. “Stop this car!” He shouted again and grabbed at the boy. He was not wearing his seatbelt. Genji grabbed him by scruff of his jacket and began to pull him away.

The gun exploded and a metallic ping reverberated around his ears. Genji snarled loudly and hauled the kid over his shoulder and into the back seat. “Call me a punk ass, you’re the punk ass!” He slammed on the breaks and the kid flew forward. His face smashed on the driver side seat with a sickening snap. Genji winced. He knew that noise. A snapped nose.

Genji’s hands shook as he threw the car into park and removed the keys. He could hear the kid moaning in pain behind him. He could hear the far off sirens. He could feel in his chest now where the car had pinned him. Genji swallowed the lump of bile that rose from his stomach and into his throat. He could not puke in the helmet. If he did, he had to wear it away.

The driver and passenger doors were thrown open and a gun was in his face. “Police! Don’t move. Hands where I can see them!” Genji did as instructed. His shaking hands gripped the steering wheel. 

Cops think you are an omnic, his brain said. Go with that. Do not take off the mask. You are an omnic fuckhead that just stopped a speeding car.

The kid didn’t get the message. Genji watched as he bolted from the backseat, bowling over police officers. He was small and skinny. Underfed. His blue hair clung to his forehead as he kicked an officer in the knee and bolted down the road. Blood streaked his features from his twisted nose. He kicked another oncoming officer in the knee and took off down the street. 

Genji leaped out of the driver side and took off running with another officer. “Kid stop!” He called out. It was in vain, he knew, but running was much worse than whatever was going to happen. Running always made it worse.

The kid did not make it far. The kid was quick, but Genji was faster. Genji ricocheted off a wall, using the force of the momentum to propel him along and get in front of the kid. The kid was cocky. He made a rude gesture back at the cops just as Genji landed. 

Genji grabbed the kid’s arm and swung it behind his back. The angle made him lean forward. Hanzo had used this grapple on him many a time when he acted like a brat. It was painful as hell, but when done correctly, it wouldn’t cause any lasting harm. Genji brought his leg up and tapped at the back of the kid’s opposite knee, causing him to bow and kneel on the ground. “There you go. Now don’t fight,” Genji warned. “At this angle, I will pull your arm out of joint and you will feel it.”

The kid swore and spit blood on the ground. “You no good pig lover!” he snarled up at Genji. “Hey, fuck you, you damn gear chunker!”

Genji’s grip tightened. He raised the arm a fraction of an inch and the boy cried out. “Hey, I warned you not to move.”

The police officer made it over and took the boy from Genji. “Hey! Look at this! We got the Sentai Warrior here, man!” He called back to his partner. He hauled the kid to his feet. “I’ve heard about you on the news!”

Genji’s attention stayed focus on the kid and followed as they walked him out. The boy screamed and kicked out, still fighting them even as he was put him in the back of their squad car. “You fucking, racist assholes! Allowing a gearchunker like that to take your jobs. Bunch of-” The door shut, cutting off the continued line of insults directed at them. The boy’s eyes were glazed and huge. Rimmed in red.

“I’ll lay money on cocaine,” The one officer murmured to her partner. She looked back at Genji, looking him over. “Hey, you are the guy aren’t you? Sentai Man or something.”

“Warrior,” Her partner pointed at him. “He is the Sentai Warrior, ain’t that right. Man, you got some strength on you!” he brought his hand down hard on Genji’s back. He didn’t even flinch from the sudden slap, but he could hear the officer whimper as he pulled his hand away. “Man, I gotta say, I’m sure glad you are on our side, dude.”

The both of them tipped their hats to Genji and climbed into the police cruiser. The lights on the top stayed off as they casually drove away. Genji could see the kid still kick and scream. He swallowed. The kid was barely a teen. He was high on cocaine and nearly drove over half a dozen innocent people. “What causes someone to do that?”

“I can’t tell you,” Another police officer moved to him. There was about a dozen on the scene now. Ambulances pulled up and were treating some of the pedestrians. “I need to get a statement.” He said calmly, flipping open his little pad of paper. “Some of us watched you whooshed down and Bam! Take that kid out, You got hit by a car and yet you still went on. Abso-fucking-lutely amazing.”

Genji ran his hands down his torso. His body still felt fine. Not even a little sore. His finger caught a divot. “I think he shot me,” Genji murmured and let the finger dip into the little dent. He hissed in pain at the gesture.

“Man, you took a bullet and you just kept going,” the cop gave a short whistle of approval. He was an older man, in his late fifties but still in good physical condition. His hair was nearly all white and his face held the wrinkles of a man who spent more time outdoors than in. “Let me tell you, twenty years ago, there were these two men, you know. Real super hero types. I was just this young punk cop and I found myself kissing my ass and waiting to meet Jesus. These two assholes swooped in and BAM! Saved me. They cleaned up the town, man. Did my job better than I could. No red tape.”

Genji nodded. He tried not to vomit for the second time today. His knees were trembling. He did not trust himself to take a step even at this point.

“What I mean is, what I saw today, man, it reminded me of those two guys, looking a shitty situation in the face and still doing what was right.”

A cop to his left laughed and walked over. “Man, my son talks about you all the time. He is all, Daddy daddy, did you meet the Sentai Warrior today. You know what, this is going to make his day. Daddy met a real superhero. Can I get a picture with you?”

Genji found himself nodding, unsure what those words meant. Suddenly there was a camera flash. Cops and other pedestrians started to crowd around him, all wanting his picture or his autograph. It suddenly all felt too surreal.

“Let me buy you a hot dog!”

“Idiot, he’s an omnic, they don’t eat meat.”

“I’m flattered,” Genji finally managed. He held his hands up and backed away slightly as people began to press things to him. The older cop seemed to sense his reluctance and began to shoo away the onlookers. He led Genji back to their line of police cars.

“I am not a hero,” he managed out and shook his head. He met the older police officer’s gaze. “I did it because people were going to get hurt.”

“That’s what the old guard of heroes said to me. He looked at me and said those same words. ‘I did it because if I don’t, people are going to get hurt’.”

“What happened to the old guard. These other super heroes?” He asked. His hands still quaked, but he tried to keep his composure.

“Well, eventually to gangs decided it was too rough to make a go here. They left to go elsewhere and then, I guess they hung up their capes. You know, it was like they faded out of existence. We didn’t need them anymore, so they went back to being regular joes.”

“Those men were the reason I became a cop,” The one with the son said. “I remember seeing them all over the tv. They did it ‘cause they loved this city. And I love this city.”

Genji’s shoulders dropped. Exhaustion swept over him like a blanket as he listened to these men speak, “Keep it up and we may let omnics into the police academy. We need more men like you.” he smiled and looked around at them. This was supposed to be a tragedy. People dying was what they had expected when they saw the car flying down the street. Instead, only a few scrapes and bruises. Property damage. To them, this was a victory.

Genji’s smiled and looked up as another officer entered the ring of police cars. The woman was massive Teller than Genji by a head and with arms to rival Hanzo’s. Her hair was cut short and an electric pink color, one he had not expected to see on a woman dressed in a dark blue police uniform. Her arms were at her side, stiff. Her fists were balled up as she walked over. A scowl was evident on her face as her gaze locked onto Genji.

“One more picture. One more,” the old officer smiles. “Zarya, you take it!” He held his phone out towards the woman. “Come on!”

Zarya swiped the phone out of his hand. “We are on duty. You are not to be talking to omnics. You are to be taking statements and making sure people are safe and unharmed.” She looked to Genji.

“Come on, Zarya, one quick snapshot of all of us, then we will get on with it.” The officer laughed as she scowled deeper. Nonetheless, she took the photo and handed the phone back. Her deep scowl sent them all running back to their posts and it left Genji to face her alone.

“I will leave,” Genji stated quietly.

“You will leave,” She growled at him.”You want to play police. You want to be the big hero that the city loves. You are neither of those things. A fancy looking suit is not a replacement for the vow I took to protect this city. I will not be responsible for the day you end up killing an innocent person.” She stalked forward and stood above him. “This is my city.” She did not wait for him to respond. She turned on her heel and stalked back out to the waiting crowd.

Genji groaned as he watched her hasty retreat. She disappeared into the crowd and was gone. His stomach wretched once. Twice. He felt his limbs begin to tingle and the hair slowly rise on the back of his neck. He leaned forward. He vomited.

__________

Hanzo sighed as he leaned against the counter. His eyes were glued to the small television where a reporter was talking about a high-speed chase that was stopped before it really began. He sighed and flipped the channel to something less dreary. This Sentai Warrior...the more he heard about it, the more he was convinced he was some sort of police protocol to get citizens on board with the idea of omnic police officers.

Either way, Hanzo could not have cared less about the issue. Omnics were, for the most part, able to make informed decisions. Rational beings had every right to belong to law enforcement. They needed more rational thinkers.

The bell above the door tingled and he did not bother to look up from the television. “Rikumaru is next door. This is the antique shop that was burgled.” 

The person apologized and quickly left. 

What he was doing did not feel very honorable, but with the loss of business and the increase in payments, Hanzo figured milking the neighborhood’s good intentions was just par for the course. Several people had shown up and bought trinkets. They inquired about his health and assured him the neighborhood was very safe. Their words echoed Jesse McCree’s almost to a fault. He wondered if his cowboy handyman had started bribing people to come cheer him up.

Hanzo flipped the channel several more times and came full circle back to the reporter. They were still talking about the Sentai Warrior and his possible motivations to want to stop a high-speed car chase.

Complete idiocy.

His finger twitches. Under his folded arms in the manilla envelope form Ogundimu. He had a month to acquire every item on the list. A letter came in the mail, on the bank’s crisp, white stationary. It hoped that he would make a speedy recovery and that they were available if he needed any further loans. It also mentioned the due date for his next payment and if he failed to meet the minimum balance, it would go into repayment and they would be forced to repossess. 

Hanzo had received sinister letters before. He was not anxious to learn what Ogundimu’s version of repossession was.

Hanzo sighed and opened up the list, his eyes scrolling over the different items requested of him. He did not recognize most of their names, though it seemed that at least six were rare antique jewels. He guessed that several others were titles for paintings and other artwork. Of course, he would not want money. Akande Ogundimu was not a man who strived for more cash. He wanted the power. What would scream power than to prove to the elite of the city that their possessions were not theirs? He could take them at any time and there was nothing they could do to stop him.

Genji’s tablet sat beside him. He unlocked the screen (seriously, Genji needed to learn to clean off the screen once in awhile and make your numerical password something more difficult than 8,5,2,0) and typed into the browser the first name on the list, The Purple Sapphire of Cortez. It was a lovely jewel with a deep violet shimmer embedded in the center of a broach and surrounded by diamonds that glittered in the photograph.

The article below stated that the large gemstone had been a temporary donated to a museum about the history of some ship that sunk around a hundred years ago. It was one of the few artifacts that were recovered and returned to the family.

It was not the first time the stone was involved in a major disaster. The original owner was a German aristocrat. After years of ownership, a famine plagued the land. The aristocrat was convinced it was the gem and a curse myth was born.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “Idiocy,” He grumbled and continued to scroll down the article to a gallery of more photographs. A gala was held in honor of the woman who currently owned the jewel. The woman and her husband laughed in a photo, holding hands while the gem was pinned to her black dress. This was not an event for the people, it was an event for the rich elite of the city to show off their wealth to one another. 

The end of the article showed the date to which the gem would be displayed. It was there for another two weeks before moving on to be displayed in its original, German city. “Ogundimu is no fool,” He mumbled as he quickly wrote down the address to the museum. He twirled the pen in his fingers and looked up the museum.

Housed downtown, it was less of a museum and more of a gallery. A small affair. This would make it more difficult, he reasoned. Big places tended to have more security, of course, but it also had more space to move around. A small location would be more intimate. Harder to get in and out without detection. 

He looked up. No one was in the shop. No one would be coming to the shop. 

He had to move quickly. He did not have a choice anymore. His phone buzzed again. He found that the handyman kept his phone on him most of the day. Their run had been pleasant, if not shorter than he was accustomed to. McCree managed about half a kilometer before his pride got the better of him. He did his best to not vomit, which Hanzo found strangely endearing. The man’s entire attitude was endearing. He swiped the screen on and smiles at the random text.

‘Text me.  
‘Quick.   
‘SOS.   
‘Emergency.’

Hanzo smiled and texted back, ‘McCree, there is an emergency. I need to talk to you. Quick. Call me back. SOS.’

His eyes went back to his list and he let out a sigh. Genji told him to go have fun with his handyman. He had to get this sapphire, but he would be noticed showing up alone at a museum in the middle of the day during the workweek. And the man was loud and boisterous, any attention would be focused on his cowboy boots and Stetson hat. He looked at his watch. The afternoon had gotten away from him. Tomorrow. He would have to go tomorrow. The museum closed at five.

Genji told him to have fun...

His fingers flew and he sent out the text before his brain could conceive of a way this would be a failure. He exhaled his breath and slammed the phone down. There was no going back now. The text was in the ether. He asked McCree to a museum to look at historical artifacts, no big deal. No pressure. 

His phone buzzed again. The screen lit up, showing the simple reply.

‘K’

_____________

He didn’t want to go home. Not yet. Genji had managed to disappear from view right as the reporters came onto the scene with their bright lights and large camera systems. He didn’t want to be on camera. Not with a visor filled with puke.

He found a public bathroom and stripped himself of the suit. The cool water of the tap and clean air left him feeling even more exposed than ever. His whole body was covered in dried sweat. He ached and itched and trembled as he clung to the side of the sink.

Going home just did not feel right. Going to campus felt even worse. It left him wandering the darkening streets, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. His feet knew where to carry him though.

His eyes looked up at the peaceful temple of the omnic monks. There wasn’t a light on in the place. He wondered briefly if Omnics needed lights to see. They had visual receptors, but was it light sensitive? Heat sensitive.

He shivered. He did not belong here.

“Greetings,” Came a serene voice. Genji looked up further. Zenyatta leaned out from the window of an upper room. His arms crossed, he looked down at Genji. “Are you lost?”

Genji shook his head and dug his hands further into his pockets. He twisted the jade dragon coin in his fingers as he shrugged his shoulders high. “Naw, I mean, I’m not lost. I’ll go.”

Zenyatta hummed, his face tilted to the side as he peered down at the man standing alone in the dark yard. “You were here the other week, with Miss Oxton, were you not?”

“Yeah, I mean, I was.”

“She said your name was Genji. She speaks highly of you,” Genji looked up, surprised. Lena talked about him to these monks. Lena came here often enough to have conversations that revolved around him.

“She does?”

“She was here earlier, gathering the last of the summer vegetables to bring to the food bank. She mentioned your troubles.”

Genji looked back down at the stones under his feet. Even here, he was still haunted by his mistakes. He stood there for a few moments longer, waiting for the monk to say something more. When he looked up, the window had been shut. The lights remained dark. This was a mistake, he shouldn’t have come here. The other night with Zenyatta had been peaceful. Pleasant. But he had not been here as Genji. He was here as the Sentai Warrior. An omnic super hero. Now, he was just plain Genji. He turned and headed away, shivering slightly as the sudden chill in the wind.

“Are you leaving?” Genji turned again. The hall light was illuminated and Zenyatta stood outside, his hands folded serenely in front of him. “I just put water on the stove for tea. It would be a shame to waste it.”

Genji turned and walked inside. It was silent and dark as he stepped past the omnic and into the main hallway. He peeked inside a room, surprised to see no other omnics. “So, where is everyone?”

“At a candlelight vigil,” Zenyatta stated. “I chose to stay behind. Our order was threatened again with spray paint and I figured it best to protect the home.”

Genji smiled as he followed the Omnic to the back room, where the kitchen was located, “Are you sure it wasn’t because you actually liked the dicks on your walls?” 

Zenyatta laughed like a tittering of bells, musical and calming. “Maybe I was hoping to get some techniques to create my own airplanes. I quite enjoy the colors.”

Genji leaned against the counter and held the mug as Zenyatta poured a steaming cup of water. “So why not get a made up faceplate? I’ve seen lots of omnics do it, you know, a new face for every day of the week.”

“Then I wouldn’t be me,” Zenyatta stated. “I am a Shambali monk. I took a vow of minimalism. If I were to change who I was every day, then who am I really?”

Genji nodded slowly as the omnic packed tea into a cloth bag. He handed it to Genji, “Chamomile,” He said. “I have been told it helps with relaxation.”

Genji nodded in approval and began to seep the small bag. “You omnics don’t eat or drink, so why have this?”

“Hospitality,” the omnic stated simply, “For times like this when I find someone lost, moping around outside my windows.”

The soft, sweet aroma of chamomile overtook his senses. Suddenly, everything felt intensely heavy. His eyes drooped. “Thank you,” He mumbled.

“You are very welcome, Genji,” The omnic stayed standing, perfectly straight. “Have you not been sleeping?”

Genji looked up at him. The omnic continued, “It happened to me once before. Our order was hit with a terrible blow. It threw everything into chaos, especially me. Suddenly, overnight, my mind was occupied with thoughts of what I could have done. Of the mistakes I made and the careless things that I have said. It was difficult to meditate or put any of my energy into any other task besides just angry and resentment.”

Genji shrugged again. “It’s been….hard falling asleep and then staying asleep,” He admitted. Zenyatta stood unmoving. Genji continued. “I just have a lot of things happening all at once. It is a bit overwhelming.”

“Just remember, you are only in control of your own actions. You are not able to control or predict the actions of others.”   
Genji took a deep sip of the tea. “It sucks,” He mumbled out.

“It does indeed suck to learn that lesson first hand,” Zenyatta chuckled again. The kitchen lapsed into serene quiet. The only sound came for the slight whirring and clicking of the fans within Zenyatta.

“Moving back here has really messed with my head,” He stated and drained the rest of the tea. “I spent most of my teen years here and today….I saw a kid get arrested. He was just a fucking kid and he was coked out of his skull. I just...I wonder what is going to happen to him.”

“Did you know this child?” Zenyatta asked. Genji shook his head. 

“He….I was like that though. That kid was me. I was bounced from foster home to foster home. It was miserable and I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I got into some real bad shit. It’s like...that was me if I didn’t get lucky and catch a break. If I didn’t get someone who kicked my ass every damn day, I would have been fighting the police and stealing cars.” he twisted the mug idly in his hands. His eyes began to burn as he talked, his voice catching in his throat. “I was not a nice kid. I did drugs and slutted it up. I just am sitting here thinking-is it fair?” 

Zenyatta stood there, quietly, his face downturned and his hands folded in front of him. The soft blue glow of the lights on his forehead blinked slowly.

“Genji, you were blessed.” He said finally. “You found a family that sent you down a successful path. But your choice was still to follow their love. Your choices added to making you the person standing here today and not a bitter person. The boy who was arrested made his choice and what is done is done. Whatever happened in his life, you are not to be blamed. You are a kind person, Genji.” 

Slowly, Zenyatta unfolded his hands. “My brothers will return late this evening. You seem quite exhausted from your day. Please, feel free to stay the night here.”

Genji rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, relieving the pressure that had built up there. He had not cried in a long time. He nodded and wiped his eyes again, sniffling loudly. “Yeah. That...that might be good.” He pulled out his phone, texting his brother he was staying the night at a friend’s place.

Zenyatta moved around the table and placed a hand on his shoulder and led him up the stairs and down the hall. “We do not have empty space here for sleeping, but you are welcome to stay in my room.”

Zenyatta opened the door to a small room with a tatami mat floor. The room was sparsely furnished, with only two short tables near the uncovered windows. Genji took a wild guess that privacy was not an issue that was high to the omnics, especially one in an order of monks. He stepped inside and Zenyatta turned on the light. “I will bring you blankets and a pillow. I apologize for not having a mattress.” 

“No,” Genji turned and looked at him. “I mean, I am the one intruding...and this is your room.”

Zenyatta cocked his head to the side. His gaze fell on Genji in silence again. “I am an omnic. I do not require sleep, as humans do. Please, rest here. I will be meditating downstairs.” Before he could respond, Zenyatta turned and headed down the hallway, out of Genji’s line of sight.

Genji felt heavy. His arms hung at his side. Genji turned and looked around the monk’s room. He expected bare walls. He expected religious tools to aid in meditation and centering one’s soul. He did not expect an aloe plant by the window. The closet was open, the doors removed. The inside had been converted into a bookshelf that was stuffed full of frayed paperback with yellowed pages.

Posters lined the wall, tacked up. The corners curled slightly with deep creases in the middle, cutting the images in half. The largest poster showed a giant robot holding screaming women with laser beams being shot out of his eyes. The whole thing was hand painted. Above the scene, in giant, red lettering was the title;“Forbidden Planet”. 

Beneath the aloe plant, there was a small, box television connected to a VHS player. A stack of black tapes sat piled to the side in a neat stack.

Genji smirked a little. He noticed books on the tables, dog eared and worn with age. All of them authors he had seen in Hanzo’s personal library. Classics, his brother had called them. Genji had tried the authors once. He found them very mathematical and droll. 

A soft click made Genji turn his attention back to the door. Zenyatta stood there and looked down at the side table where Genji was. In his arms were folded blankets and pillows. “I was not sure how many of each you needed.” He set them down on the tatami mat and sat next to them.

Genji smiled and lifted the black covered book holding it up. The cover looked right out of the 1970’s with the Technicolor painting and the garish, clunky robot on the cover with the blocky text of ‘I, ROBOT’ in all caps. “So you are a fan of science fiction?”

Zenyatta inclined his head, “I am a fan of the classic authors. It is intriguing how authors of the past pictured the future.”

Genji smiled. “You would like my brother. He reads Bradbury and Clarke and Asimov all the time. He wouldn’t shut up about the math in the books and how accurate they came to predicting the future and blah blah,” He smiled. 

Zenyatta laughed again and shrugged his shoulder’s, much in the same way Genji had earlier. “What can I say, I enjoy a tale about robots and humans learning to work and communicate together. Even if they were cautionary tales about how artificial intelligence would be the destruction of humanity. To each, their own.”

Genji pointed to the posters on the wall. “I like movies though,” He said quickly, trying to rectify his previous statement. “I don’t like reading much at all.” He reached out and took up one of the VHS tapes. In carefully scripted penmanship over the tape, it read “Outer Limits”. He held it up. “Which episode is this?” he asked.

“The Bollero Shield,” Zenyatta mused, taking the VHS from Genji and looking it over. “It is about a scientist who invents a powerful laser weapon. He is constantly fighting his father and wife. It is a wonderful episode, like Macbeth, but with aliens.”

Genji shook his head. “I don’t know what that is. It’s some Shakespeare, right?”

“It is not too late yet,” Zenyatta mused, looking at the clock on the wall. “I could share it with you if you are not too tired.”

He shook his head and went about to lay out the blankets and pillows as Zenyatta pulled the television out and put the tape in. He smirked a little. 

“What is it, my friend?” Zenyatta hummed as he turned the lights off. The hall light illuminated into the room through the crack in the door.

“Just the irony. You, an omnic, watching old VHS tapes and reading books about killer robots from the fifties, in a house, populated by peaceful robot monks. You’re an enigma.”

The monk settled himself next to Genji and pressed play, “I guess I am.”

The video tracking kicked in and the tape hummed inside the machine as it worked itself into focus as the tiny, retro cords of the television program started up. Genji knew he could not make it through the whole program, but he felt safe here. He rested his head against the borrowed pillow and let out a deep sigh. He knew he could sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took me so much longer to complete than I thought! I will try to work hard to get the next chapter organized and ready for you all as soon as possible! I hope you enjoy!


	5. Trapped! The Sentai warrior has a new rival?

“Five AM! Time to wake up!” Chirped the phone near his head in an all too pleasant and chipper voice for an ungodly hour of the dawn. Genji groaned in dissatisfaction and pulled the pillow over his head as the alarm continued. “Today is Tuesday, October third. The weather will be a cooler sixty-seven degrees Fahrenheit. Sunny. You have three classes today, starting at eight thirty-” 

Genji slammed his hand onto the face of the phone, trying to get that chipper woman inside to shut the fuck up. He cursed Hanzo for putting that awful alarm on his phone in the first place. He had been late to school only fifteen days his senior year and the authorities had called for a meeting about truancy and, before he knew it, Hanzo had locked this program into his phone. Now, every damn morning, it woke him up with the same chipper message on time, classes, homework that was due, and the weather.

He groaned and pulled the body near him closer and snuggled up. Why did Hanzo have to set it for five in the morning?

A small grumble came from the form next to him, and a long, hairy arm draped over his side. “Are you up?” came the gruff voice.

Genji smiled sweetly and pulled him in tighter. “Morning, Winston.” He let out a long sigh and stroked the dark fur back. “You know, you are like a big, heated blanket.” 

Winston let out another grunt as his phone began to go off again. Genji slapped his hard, snoozing the alarm. 

Genji sighed and remembered the night before. AS they watched several episodes of old science fiction television shows, Zenyatta would give off random information and facts about the show’s creation. Genji found it rather adorable. The omnic monk had a fondness for archaic views of how robotic life would be. He had recited Asimov's three laws of robotics out, by heart, and explained how he thought that that the first rule applied to everyone and every life. He had not asked what the first rule was, but assumed from knowing Zenyatta, that it had something to do with peace and tranquility. 

It was sometime in the middle of the third show that Genji decided he had laid down. His head began to bob forward sleepily and his eyes refused to stay open. He had wanted to stay awake longer, listening to the monk talk about the history of the 1960’s politics and how it influenced the pop culture of the time, but in all honesty, it was rather dry to his tastes.

Zenyatta then made a little nest for him of pillows and blankets. He admitted sweetly that he was unsure about human sleeping quarters and had only seen them on television. Genji pulled the pillow to him and admitted that this was just perfect. The room was pleasantly warm and the pillow was soft. The only thing he needed to get completely comfortable was to remove his pants. He assumed Zenyatta would not be pleased to have him half-naked in his rooms.

His attention moved back to the tiny gorilla in his arms. He smiled down at him, “How did you know I was here?” He mumbled out sleepily.

Winston grunted and looked up at him and rubbed his tired, blurry eyes, “I was worried, Genji. Last night, you told me you were going to look around. You told me you would keep in contact. Then I saw the news. I saw footage of you getting hit by a car, Genji.”

His stomach twisted and he pulled his guardian gorilla close. “Winston-”

“I went to investigate. I called and I called…” Winston trailed off as he spoke, there was a hitch in his voice Genji had not heard before. He spoke slowly as if calculating his words as they came “The police were talking, Genji, about how the Sentai Warrior just walked away from that crash.” Winston’s hand grasps as the back of Genji’s shirt. “I...I worried. I tried to call you again, and there was no answer. I went to your apartment and no one was there. I was so scared. I traced your phone. I saw your location. I came here as soon as I could.”

Genji wrapped his arms around the soft gorilla and let out a long sigh. “It was too much. I kind of freaked out and just ran away.” He mumbled into the dark fur. They laid there for a while. He felt Winston’s heart beat in time with his own. How scared had he really been? To have him seek Genji out, to look for him despite the late hour. Winston’s grip on his shirt tightened as he shifted. He had not meant to make anyone worry. He had forgotten to tell his companion where he was and Winston had been afraid. That was unacceptable. “I didn’t mean to make anyone worry. I’m sorry, Buddy.”.

“It’s nearly six,” Winston mumbled into his shirt but still he did not move away. “You have classes. You promised you would get back to class today.”

Genji let out a chuckle and patted his head. “I guess I broke some trust there last night, huh?” He pulled himself away from the warm embrace and patted Winston’s head as he sat up and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m really fine, Winston,” He smiled down at his companion and ruffled his fur. 

He rolled away as he heard his phone buzz and snatched it up. His heart sank further as he saw the series of missed calls and texts from both Winston and Hanzo. He swiped away all the ones from Winston and scrolled through Hanzo’s. 

They started off angry, telling Genji to get home right away and that it was a school night. The texts quickly turned more and more anxious after Genji did not respond. They had gone on throughout the night. Every fifteen minutes or so another text came through, asking Genji where he was. If he was safe. Just to reply.

He swallowed and felt another pang of regret drop to the pit of his stomach as he began to reply. What would he say though? He couldn’t tell Hanzo the truth. He chewed on his lower lip and let his fingers move over the screen.

‘Hanzo, I am so sorry. I went out with a friend last night. I didn’t mean to stay out. Phone died.’ He sighed and set the phone aside and ran a hand over his face.

His gaze turned back to Winston, “I’m going to get cleaned up and get to class,” He said quietly. “If you want to wait for me out at the front gate, I’ll be there in, like, five minutes. I know you said that people can’t really see you, but these are omnics.”

Winston moved to the window slowly and turned back “Are you alright?” He asked.

Genji gave a short nod in return. His phone lit up again, a reply from Hanzo. His hands shook as he looked down and read the message over. ‘Come home right after class.’ His hands began to shake. He would rather Hanzo called. Yelled at him. Reacted in some way besides that. 

Genji looked up and found Winston gone, the window closed in his wake. It was as if he had never been there. Genji swallowed and went about folding the blankets and set the pillows on top. He spent many nights over at friend’s houses, but this time felt different. He did not want to insult the monks.

A soft rap came from the door. Genji looked up as Zenyatta opened the door and entered with a tray filled with breakfast. “Good Morning, Genji,” He said serenely.

Genji sat and watched the monk work on setting the tray on the floor. He could clearly see all the items the monk provided for breakfast. A kettle of tea with a two cups, though he was unsure why the omnic would bring in two, and two slices of toast. Plain.

“I apologize,” Zenyatta hummed and set the plate of toast in front of Genji. “We are not accustomed to having guests overnight. Usually, we would have prepared better accommodations.”

“It’s not like I gave you much time to prepare,” Genji smiled as Zenyatta poured a steaming cup of tea. The aroma calmed him. It was not the usual tea he drank in the morning.

“Ms. Oxton left us excess Earl Grey the last time she came to us. It was either this or the brand called ‘Sleepytime’. I assume this would be a better choice.”

Genji smiled and took the mug from him, “I doubt that anyone would be happy if I fell asleep in class.” He sighed deeply as his phone buzzed again. Apparently, Hanzo would be looking for constant reassurance today that Genji would be where he claimed he was. “Sorry,” He mumbled an apology as he sent off another message to his brother.

“It is good that someone cares about you so greatly,” Zenyatta hummed as a reply. He lifted the empty mug and held it in his hands. “I hope that your staying here last night did not interfere with any other plans.”

“Naw,” Genji smiled and sipped his tea. His eyes were on the empty one in the omnic’s hands. “He can be a bit overbearing at times.”

Zenyatta hummed, “My guess is you have been a model little brother and have caused him no grief ever.”

Genji looked down into his own swirling brown tea as he felt his ears flush red. He lifted it to his lips and drank deeply as the omnic chuckled again. “I guess you would not have much experience with overbearing older brothers.”

“And you would be mistaken,” Zenyatta rolled the cup in his hands before setting it back down. “I was once a little brother as well. I understand how having an older brother can be. At the time, I found his captious ways as an assault on my individuality.”

Genji’s ears continued to burn as the omnic spoke. He let out another sigh, “He thinks he is helping me,” He started. “I just wish he didn’t act like he was our father all the time. Sometimes it’s like I just want a brother, you know? Someone who won’t baby me.”

“I thought the same thing,” Zenyatta tipped the cup on its side and rolled it along the ground with a single, slender finger. “Sometimes I wished to go to him without judgment. I rather have a companion over a parent,” His voice trailed off and, for a moment, the omnic looked lost in his own thoughts. After a moment, he sat back up and folded his hands neatly in his hand. “I was careless about our time together.”

“I haven’t always been the most trustworthy brother,” Genji smiled a little and looked at the cold, dry toast. “I didn’t realize that omnics had older brothers.”

“He was taken from us all too soon,” Zenyatta stated quietly. “We mourn his loss every day.”

Genji felt cheeks and neck flushed hot as he realized what he said. He was an idiot for assuming that omnics did not understand the loss like humans had. In his mind, their brains were a series of computer codes, something that could be downloaded and uploaded into new carriers. It never occurred to him that omnics understood the concept of death.

Quickly, he brought the tea to his lips and took a long sip. The two fell into silence. Downstairs, he could hear the movement of the other omnics as they started their day, shuffling and laughter billowed up the stairs. Zenyatta was, again, the first to speak. “It is growing rather late in the morning, and you do have classes, do you not?”

Genji nodded slowly. “Yeah,” He set the empty cup back on the tray and stood up, pocketing his phone and grabbing his hoodie off the floor. “I should just,” He motioned for the door. “You won’t get in trouble for having me here, right?”

“Our doors are always open to those who feel lost, regardless of their background,” Zenyatta led him down the stairs and through the hallways, which were now filled with omnic monks on their way to morning meditations, or whatever it was that monks did in the morning. Genji ducked his head low and felt his ears continuing to grow hot. He could feel their eyes on him as he passed.

Zenyatta did not seem to notice, or mind, as he opened the front door and stepped onto the porch with Genji. The monk let out a long sigh. He looked inside and many of the omnics that had been watching went back to their original tasks. He turned back to Genji, “On Thursdays, many of us go downtown. There is a bowling alley there that is quite enjoyable and accepting of our kinds.”

“Omnic bowling leagues?” Genji blinked and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from talking further. Stupid, he chastised himself, Stop voicing your thoughts.

Zenyatta merely laughed again. “They are fairly accepting of an omnic league, yes, but I meant religious leaders. Thursdays they deemed the night of ‘Holy Rollers’.” He chuckled at the pun. “The sisters at St. Luke’s were the ones to start the league. Lately, they have been in a tizzy. Their scores have floundered after Sister Eunice broke her foot and they are under the impression now that we omnics have an unfair advantage.”

Genji merely nodded. The omnic’s story was simple enough, though he did not understand why he decided to talk to him about bowling, of all things.

Zenyatta continued, “That is not to say that we don’t have minor advantages. Many of us are more nimble than the sisters, and we do not tire as easily as they do, but I think that if we had someone like you on our team-”

“Human?”

“Inexperienced.” He corrected. “Sister Mary would not be so quick to get defensive of the scores if someone was there to level the playing field.”

“You are asking me to go bowling with you.”

“Yes.”

“This Thursday,”

“Yes.”

“So that way a bunch of nuns do not think you are cheating.”

“Exactly.”

Genji looked the man in front of him over. He tried to calculate in his mind if this was a terrible joke or not, “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Zenyatta pulled a phone out of his robes and began to type in his passcode. “Would the promise of food and drinks while there tempt you more?”

Genji felt a lump in his throat that he had to swallow down. His hands shook as he took out his own phone. “Maybe. Let me make sure I am not going to be chained to the radiator when I get home and I can tell you later?”

Zenyatta gave a slight hum. He was, for a moment, unsure if the omnic made the noise himself, or if it were the fans in his system. His ears and neck felt hot as he saved Zenyatta’s number into his phone. There was something in the way he watched Genji that made something inside him flutter. 

He smiled a little as he stepped off the porch and headed the small path to the street. He looked back and found Zenyatta still standing there. “I think I can talk Hanzo into letting me go,” He called back. “Especially if I tell him it’s to help out a monk.”

He gave a final wave and darted to the street, afraid that the omnic would see his face turning red again. He clutched his phone tight in his hand and felt himself flutter inside. 

_______

“I can assure you that your phone still exists,” McCree let out a grumble as he shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, a scowl evident on his face. “What do you keep checking yer damn phone for?”

Hanzo sighed and sank his phone back into his pocket and looked at the man walking beside him. “It is just my brother. He did not come home last night. He finally decided to text me.”

McCree’s face softened a fraction, “Sorry there, Hanzo, I was just teasin’ you a bit.” He reached up and fiddled with his hat. “He alright?”

Hanzo looked over at the cowboy next to him and let out another long sigh. “Apparently so. He is not one to communicate his plans to me. Last night he just disappeared. He did not return any of my calls or texts.”

“He okay now?”

“I guess so. He said his phone ran out of battery.” Hanzo felt the phone buzz in his pocket. He resisted the urge to pull it out and check. Genji was an adult, even if he did not act like it all the time. He could not always be there for him.

Hanzo had forgone his usual morning run. He felt displaced and uneasy as he sat in the empty apartment and waited for Genji to call, or worse, a call from the police. He had seen the news reports about the young boy who that Sentai Warrior had arrested. It was like an immediate punch to his guts as the reporter gave a description of the young man in question. ‘Please,’ he begged the universe, ‘Please do not be Genji.’ 

The relief finally came during the ten o’clock news, when they finally released a photo of the boy in question. He was too young, too gaunt to be Genji. Then the second step of worry came in. If Genji wasn’t the boy on the news, then where was he? Had he been hurt? Had he been kidnapped? What if Ogundimu went back on his promise to not hurt him? What if someone from their past found out where they were?

Thoughts swirled in his head until, at last, at five fifteen in the morning, Genji had replied. Relief and exhaustion spilled over him at the short message from his brother. More questions pooled in his head, like why Genji did not trust him enough to not lie, but he could not rightly ask them over the phone.

At eight, Jesse McCree showed up at his door, two coffees and a donut in hand, and a cheery smile on his face. Hanzo had not realized the time. He also had not realized that he missed his morning run. Everything inside him ached. His own head felt ready to fall off his shoulders. 

But McCree’s presence somehow made all of that go away. He had forgotten all about the plans he made previously with the cowboy until the moment he was at the door.

McCree knocked his shoulder into Hanzo’s and pulled him out of his thoughts, “So you promised me an exciting day, Hans.”

He glowered at the nickname, “I asked if you wanted to accompany me to a museum. I never promised any amount of excitement. Have you ever even stepped inside a museum, Cowman?”

“I am not wholly uncultured. I have seen museums in movies before. And ancient artifacts. They come to life and night and hold mysterious curses that melt yer face off.” 

The smirk on the cowboy’s face caused Hanzo to roll his eyes and smile in return, “Foolish,” He muttered and knocked his shoulder playfully into the other’s. “You are going to be very disappointed then.”

“Ya mean there ain’t gonna be no curses?” He pressed his hand to his chest and looked absolutely astounded.

“No, there ain’t,” He smiled wider at the bark of laughter he received from the other man at his imitation. He continued, “In fact, there won’t be very many ancient artifacts either. It is an art museum. The only magic that will be happening today is the magic of learning.”

Jesse McCree, all 6’1” of him, threw his head back and groaned loudly as if he were a child and stomped up the stone stairs of the museum after Hazno. “First ya make me walk all the way here instead of drivin’ and now you want me to learn? What kind of man are you?”

He laughed loudly as they stepped inside the warmly lit lobby of the old manor house. Hanzo paid for the both of them and adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder. “I am a cruel man. A very cruel man. How dare I wish to have culture and beauty in my life.”

The museum had once been the private art collection of a French baron. After his death, he had willed the house and the artwork within to the public, Hanzo explained as they entered the first room. A group of college students sat around with sketchbooks out. The room was quiet, save for the gentle clicking of keyboards and the scratch of pencils on paper.

Hanzo stopped by the first piece he recognized and looked up at the other man. He opened his mouth, ready to explain the piece, but found his attention was on the tin room ceiling overhead, Hanzo gave a sigh and turned back to the piece in front of him. It showed three ballerinas sitting backstage of a performance. They were slumped over one another. Through a part in the curtains, the viewer could still see the main stage where a woman stood gracefully with the spotlight over her. “This piece is called ‘Mademoiselle Guillard on Stage’,” Hanzo explained. He pointed to the dancer on stage in white, “She was the wife of a baron and this is the only known portrait of her.”

Jesse looked down at his hands, half listening to Hanzo. He looked over when the other stopped talking “So this baroness doesn’t have any other portraits?”

Good. He was listening. Hanzo looked back “She was his third wife. The baron was her second husband. Mademoiselle Guillard was a known beauty and the greatest dancer on the Parisian stage, so when they married not even six months after her first husband disappeared, it was a huge scandal. It forced them to flee here, to America. She was not happy with that arrangement and began to make his life more difficult. The baron died during their second winter here. The Baroness went missing around the same time.”

Jesse nodded as he listened to Hanzo’s story. “So she offed the old man?”

Hanzo leaned in close. “They say that sometimes if you look closely at the portrait, you can see a flicker of movement. Her punishment for killing her husband is to be forever trapped in the only painting to hold her likeness.”

Jesse shoved him hard. “Fuck off, man. How much of that bullshit is real?”

Hanzo snickered and continued on to the next room. “All of it. That rumor is real too. I read about it online. This house is part of the haunted tour of Westedge.”

Jesse looked him over. “Huh, just lookin’ at you, ya’d never guess. Ya look normal. Ya act normal. Hell, ya sound pompous half the time, but it still seems normal. But here I am on a date with a weird goth kid.”

Hanzo gripped the strap of his bag tight and looked over at the man next to him as his ears turned pink. “I never said I was a goth kid.”

“One, you have this weird thing with dragons-don’t think I haven’t seen that sweet tattoo you sport. Two, you run a creepy ass antique shop-”

“Both of those things are not weird. Dragons are a part of my culture, for one, and secondly, reclaimed items are trending now. People would rather have old, quality items than cheap and disposable.”

“Three!” McCree spoke over him and held up the appropriate number of fingers. “You fucking look up haunted ass trails in the city and then go around talkin’ about all sorts of creepy shit. That’s pretty damn goth. Yer lucky yer so damn cute.”

Hanzo felt the heat radiating down from his ears and onto his neck and cheeks. He turned away, “You are aggravating and weird and you dress like you work on a farm.” 

“But I’m cute?” McCree flashed a brilliant smile at Hanzo.

“You are an idiot for thinking this is a date. I just wanted to come here and figured you could use a little culture in your dreary life.”

“I ain’t hearin’ a denial that I’m cute though.”

“I guess you aren’t entirely unappealing,” Hanzo rolled his eyes as he gripped the strap to his bag tighter. The two passed in relative silence through the other rooms on the lower level of the museum, Hanzo quietly appreciating the silence of the space as well as the carefully constructed brushstrokes of classically trained artists. He cut the silence a few times, explaining to the man next to him the skill that went into composing such a work.

“Hmm,” Jesse made a noise of interest and nodded along, but he rolled on the balls of his feet. His eyes danced around the room, not lingering on anything more than a few moments. Hanzo watched out of the corner of his eye and Jesse removed his phone from his pocket and then quickly shoved it back in deeply before even turning the screen on. He would take his lower lip into his mouth and bite along the sides. It was as if the man did not understand the concept of standing still.

Hanzo smiled. He reached out and brushed his fingers over Jesse’s. “Come, there is a second floor.” His fingers entwined with Jesses and he squeezed tight before pulling him along, up the stairs to the second floor.

Steps echoed off the wood floor as they walked down the hallway of the upstairs. Long shadows of the morning ghosted over the stark, white walls where the painting should have been hung. Thin metal wired hung from the ceiling and stopped bluntly with a hook as if awaiting that artwork that should have been hung there.

Dark, oak doors lined the hallway, promising rooms beyond this thin hall, but they were shut tight. Maroon velvet ropes hung across them with banners stating “Do Not Cross”. 

“Spooky,” Jesse commented. He gave Hanzo’s hand a gentle press and smiled over at him. “Don’t worry, if anything comes to life from those rooms, I can protect ‘ya.” He finished with a little wink that sent heat down Hanzo’s spine.

They walked to the end of the hallway where the last room sat. The large double doors were propped open wide, showing off the elaborate master bedroom suite. The room had been remodeled to fit the rest of the museum’s cold aesthetic. The room was an atrocious shade of powder pink. Dark mauve curtains were draped over large windows looked out to the backyard where a beautiful garden blossomed. Along the ceilings lay gold leaf sconces and tiny cherubs. The room looked as if it had been designed by the sun king himself. French elegance poured out of every corner and mirror that hung. It smelled like roses.

It was a shame the museum turned it into just another room to house precious items The room would have been opulent enough in it’s prime. Gone were the delicate pieces of furniture that would have been custom made. Hanzo fully expected to see a large canopy bed with swooping silk drapes in powder pink to match the abhorrent coloring of the walls. Along the wall to his left were large curios filled with precious glass figurines. To his right was a display case that spanned the entire wall that was filled with teacups and vases. 

The center of the room was where his focus lay. His goal stood dead center, sitting in the glass case turned towards him. Four mannequins stood inside the case, all wearing historical garments. They were all dressed to look like fine ladies in expensive fabrics and draped in furs and jewels. 

One stood with regal elegance in a dark purple dress. It was low cut, meant to accentuate the wearer’s hips and bosom. White flowers danced along the side and up, over the bust, where the Violet Sapphire hung around the plastic neck of the model. Online photos made the jewel appear much darker, almost black in coloring. As Hanzo moved forward, he could see how the light danced off of it, reflecting a soft azure blue.

“Damn, look at those,” Jesse whistled in appreciation as he stepped right up to the glass case that housed her. “Really fucking creepy.”

Hanzo huffed and pulled his hand, a smile still on his face. “Well come on. This is the last room, we might as well look.”

“Aw hell naw. Look at those fucking things. Giant ass dolls standing in the middle of the room. Look! They have those creepy ass faces!”

Hanzo laughed louder. “They do not have faces! They are mannequins!”

“I know! I can see that!” Jesse laughed as he was dragged in. “I’ve seen enough scary movies to know what happens next. Those things come to life and strangle every last breath outta ya!”

“I expect that you will be the dutiful hero and come to my rescue when they come for me?” Hanzo leaned closer to the case, watching the light dance off the jewel.

“Aw hell naw. You are pretty an’ all, but the second one of those things move, it is every man fer himself.”

Hanzo laughed loudly. “Such a romantic. Even in a fantasy, you could not be bothered to save me.” He gasped as he felt strong arms move around his middle and pull him close. Heat radiated from the warm spot where McCree held him. He could feel his hot breath against the back of his neck and could feel the slow scratch of his beard against his skin. He sighed and relaxed back. 

His eyes wandered around the ceiling of the room. There were two cameras. One was focused on the main door, the other on the windows. It gave a lot of space for movement without being detected. Both would have a view on the case though.

The case was probably hooked up to the security system. If he reached out and touched the glass, chances were very good that a security officer would be there in no time. He wondered exactly how long it would take. His hand twitched slightly.

“You seem mighty comfortable in places like this,” Jesse mumbled out.

Hanzo hummed in agreement and rested his hands over Jesse’s own. “I enjoy quiet places like this. And beautiful things. It is a trait I inherited from my mother. She loved being surrounded by glamorous things.”

“I have heard you talk about this brother of yours often, but this is the first time I heard about your mama. Where is she now?”

“Dead,” Hanzo said. He pulled away from Jesse’s tight embrace and back into the chill of the room, his footsteps echoing off the hardwood floor as he moved to the small figurines.

Jesse dropped his hands deep into his pockets and turned his gaze away. “I didn’t know,” He mumbled out. “I’m mighty sorry about all that. I meant nothin’ by it.” Jesse let his words fade away and surrounded them both in the quiet of the room.

“I am not offended,” Hanzo spoke quietly. “It happened long ago. She is barely a memory at this point. Her death no longer affects me.”

Jesse’s gaze turned to the window as they drifted into silence again. On the streets below, the sound of children screaming and laughing wafted up through the empty hall.

“I used to get into a whole ton of trouble when I was a kid. Get suspended for pickin’ fights, swearin’ at the teachers-the whole nine yards,” Jesse’s fingers fidgeted with something deep in his pocket as he spoke. Hanzo watched as he twisted something, hearing an audible ‘click click click’ through Jesse’s words. “He wasn’t one to let me stay at home and smoke pot though. He was too smart for that. Instead, he made me go to the junkyard and pick out an old car. This fucker had to be at least thirty years old for my old man to even consider taking it home. And then, once we picked one out, we had to haul it back and it was my job to fix it up until it was all shiny and pretty. Dad said it wasn’t done until we could call it Sex on Wheels.”

Hanzo snorted and turned back to Jesse, “I sometimes think you just enjoy the sound of your own voice, Cowboy.”

Jesse sauntered over, “I got a purpose to every one of my stories if you just wouldn’t interrupt.”

Hanzo gave a slight wave to his hand, “I apologize for my rudeness, please continue.”

“The point is this-I still miss him. I miss both my parents. It doesn't hurt half as bad today as it did yesterday. And I know tomorrow will get better too. But some days it hurts so bad ya just wanna cry. And sometimes you don’t even know what it is until you find yourself doing something that they would have done. Like changing the oil in my truck or listening to old Hank Williams records. Small things that make you remember the pain. Maybe that’s why ya wanted to come here today. Sometimes we want to feel that pain and don’t even realize it.”

Hanzo looked down at his hands. Remembering his mother was...an afterthought. But Jesse McCree stood there with his big dopey face and honest whiskey-colored eyes that tried to peer deep into his soul. 

God, Hanzo wished that what Jesse said were true. He wished he brought Jesse here just because his soul craved human contact and this place reminded him of his past. But he was a Shimada and Shimadas were impervious to pain. He was raised to be like a serpent; cold-blooded, ruthless and alone. 

Hanzo opened his mouth to lie and agree with the man in front of him. He wanted very much to let Jesse believe he was correct with his reading of Hanzo. The lie wouldn’t come through. Instead, his mind was drawn to the clicking he could still hear emanating from the other’s pocket and his mouth moved barely without his thought, honing in on the defense. “Why are you making that awful noise?”

“What?” Jesse looked at Hanzo like he had grown a second head at the sudden change in conversation. He slowly removed his hand from his pocket and held out his keys. “It’s just something my sister got me.”

Hanzo moved over and picked the keys out of Jesse’s hand and looked the black fob at the end. “What is it?”

“Just something to touch. If you hadn’t noticed, I ain’t too good with staying still an’ quiet. This just….helps.” Jesse reached out and tapped the fob, where it pressed in and made an audible ‘Pop’. “I just didn’t want to get bored and embarrass you.”

Hanzo rolled the black fob in his hand and poked at the middle and felt the pop of the plastic and the loud click. It reminded him of the clicking pens. He slipped it back into Jesse’s hand with a smile. “Next time, I promise I will take you to someplace more exciting where you are allowed to touch things.” Hanzo wanted to leave. He had seen enough. The museum was just an average museum. It would not take much to break in. The windows were not even barred, just alarmed. It would be an easy job as long as he was cautious.

“Who says I ain’t allowed to touch,” Jesse snapped him out of his thoughts as he reached out and looped his fingers into the belt loops of Hanzo’s black jeans and pulled him in close. “By the way, I’m figurin’ it, we are all alone up here and I can do whatever I want”

Hanzo’s eyes flickered to the cameras in the corner again. “We are being watched.”

“By some old fart who’s whole job is to keep idiot kids from touching paintings,” Jesse smirked as he followed Hanzo’s gaze to the camera. He pulled the other into the hall and pushed him against the wall. “I think I can touch you just fine without gettin’ caught.”

Hanzo felt a shiver race down his spine as Jesse pressed him into the wall and into his personal space. His warm hands rested on his hips and that sweet, dopey smile was instantly fierce and hungry. His own hands gripped Jesse’s shoulders and held him back, “I should tell you to stop. This is completely inappropriate, Jesse. I am a man of class, not some wanton boy you can kiss breathless.”

“We’ll see about that,” And his lips were over Hanzo’s, softly kissing him. The scent of sandalwood and pine mixed with something essentially Jesse invaded his senses and made him melt into the other. He was pulled deeper into the other’s embrace. He had not expected Jesse to be so soft. He had expected needy and severe, instead, he received sweet and tender. His heart fluttered within his chest.

He spared a glance at his watch. 10:17.

Hanzo let his eyes slip shut and his fingers to card through Jesse’s thick hair. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss. The tip of his tongue brushed against Jesse’s and he let out a shameless moan. He tasted like mints and smoke and something deeply familiar that was rooted in his soul. Never in his life did he expect to be so turned on by the taste of cheap cigarettes, but the taste was pure Jesse McCree. He was a force.

Jesse groaned himself and pressed further into Hanzo. Chest to chest and hip to hip. His hands moved around Hanzo’s middle to rest at his lower back and rub deep circles into the point just above where his jeans lay on his hips.

His hands moved down the side of Jesse’s face. He cupped his cheeks and drew him in deeper as he scratched lightly through his beard. He found he liked the texture beneath his fingers. He scraped his nails across his jaw and pulled another moan from his cowboy.

Jesse let out a hiss as Hanzo’s palm moved up to catch his cheek in his hand and his knuckle ran over the still present bruise. “Careful, Darlin’.” He mumbled against his lips

Hanzo pulled back and left fluttering kisses along Jesse’s bruised cheek. “You need to learn to be a better boxer, Cowboy,” He purred out.

“Hey now, the other guy was just faster,” Jesse caught his lips in another fluttering, breathless kiss. “Darlin, I am strong enough for you.” He shifted Hanzo tighter against the wall with his knee between Hanzo’s and pressed. Jesse’s lips moved across his temple and down the shell of his ear. “My speed is just fine,” His voice was husky against his neck. 

Hanzo chuckled and let out a guttural moan as Jesse’s mouth enveloped his earlobe and sucked hard. He knew it would mark his skin and it excited him more as he rutted his hips forward and felt the hard press of Jesse against his hips. A tingle rolled through his hips at the realization. He did this to the cowboy. His head swam with the thoughts. “You are a fool,” He moaned and twisted his head away to give that sinful mouth more flesh to attack.

“Hey!” The sharp bark pulled Jesse off him and away. At the end of the hall stood the security guard, his face red and sweaty. He stalked forward at the two of them. “What the hell is going on up here?” He snarled. His fists were balled at his sides as he looked between the two of them. 

Hanzo felt his face flush and he looked down as the guard continued huffing and puffing his way to them. He managed a look at his watch. 10:32. Roughly fifteen minutes for the guard to notice them and get up here. Fifteen was all he needed. He looked back up as the man stood in front of the both of them. His face turned a cherry red. 

“You damn college kids!” He screamed. “What the hell is wrong with the whole lot of you?”

Jesse raised his hands up in defense “Didn’t the art department call you?” The easy smile came back to his face even as the back of his neck flushed red. “We were that performance art piece. You know, come in and find a piece of art they mimic it. You saw everyone downstairs. It’s our project.”

“Yes,” Hanzo looked over to Jesse. “The project was to imitate classical art. Look at the forms and elegance of the original piece. We were trying to capture the raw passion and elegance of the work. I have the assignment guidelines in my bag,” He turned and began to open his side bag.

The guard snarled, his face going purple. “Performance piece?! What you two were doing is obscene! I have every intention of calling the police if you do not leave right this second.”

“What the hell,” Jesse grabbed Hanzo’s hand and pulled him along, down the hall. “Every other young couple can come in here and do the same thing, but suddenly showing a little bit of affection is considered obscene!” Jesse’s voice raised with every step he took. He pointed a finger at the guard. “This is prejudice!”

“What?” The guard looked between them both. Hanzo was sure the guard was on the verge of a heart attack with how purple his face grew. “There are children here! Kindergarteners!” 

“Oh, I get it now,” Jesse snarled and stomped down the stairs, his grip on Hanzo still tight. 

Hanzo’s face grew hot as he realized every person in the museum was watching the spectacle they were creating with the guard. He ducked his head down as Jesse continued to rant. “So you admit it. You think that us being together is inappropriate for children to see!”

“Yes!” His voice echoed off the marble floor and reverberated through every room. No one spoke. He could feel eyes on them as they stood at the base of the stairs. The only noise was that of the children outside in the gardens, laughing and playing.

Hanzo raised his eyebrows and looked at Jesse, “Yes?” Jesse echoed quietly.

“No!” The guard sputtered and looked around at the people inside the museum, “What you do is your own business and-” He cut himself off as he stomped to the front door and threw it open. “Don’t grind against each other in front of ten-year-olds! This is a house of art, not 'da clubz'.” 

Jesse’s arm snaked around Hanzo’s middle and held his head high. He clicked his tongue as he proudly stepped forward as if he were making a grand stand and not some horny boy caught grinding in a public place.

Hanzo followed his lead and wrapped his arm around Jesse’s middle. He wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. His instinct was to not be seen. Jesse was a very different animal. He wanted all the attention on him at all times. It was like he craved the attention. Hanzo felt drawn to him. Never in his life had he ever caused a scene. He was the dutiful son of a respectable family. He was the one that everyone turned to as a rock in the storm. 

They stepped outside into the warm autumn sun and Jesse squeezed Hanzo to him, a smile wide on his face. Jesse was a tempest. He was fast moving and let chaos rain down in his path. He did not care about the consequences and just went with his instinct. Jesse was volatile and it was alluring. 

“I told ya back there, I get bored and I do dumb things.” He sighed. “I’m mighty sorry about all that back there. I didn’t mean to kiss you and get caught. Then, I panicked. Sorry I got ya in trouble like that.”

“You panic and your first instinct is to make a terrible scene?” Hanzo chuckled and rested his head on Jesse’s shoulder. “I think I would not mind having more trouble if trouble. Especially if keeps kissing me like that.”

Jesse’s arm tightened around him. “I think trouble can do that.”

__________

Genji ran his hand through his green hair. His hair was getting long. He needed to get a haircut soon. Dark roots were showing through the green and it bothered him. He twisted a greasy lock in his fingers and regretted not having the time to go home that morning and getting a proper shower in. 

But he had missed enough classes and no one would have blamed him if he had been disheveled after the week he had, but still, to show up in wrinkled, day old clothes and unwashed hair, he looked as if he came to class still working his way through a bender.

The waitress set a fresh pot of coffee on the table in front of him with a wink. “Looks like you had a hard night, Sug.”

He managed a weak smile to her before turning back to the papers in front of him. He had been grateful to his friends getting him all the classwork and notes. He spent an hour in the library between his two morning classes and was able to get caught up. Now he sat in the diner across from campus with papers spread out in front of him. 

Winston texted him in the middle of class. He wanted to meet. He did not say why. Genji was left to just figure it out on his own.

“Sorry I am late,” He looked up as Winson scooted into the booth. He nabbed a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee before added sugars and creams. “I was held up and lost track of the time.” He pushed the glasses up his nose and looked over at Genji as he exhaled deeply. 

Genji smiled as he watched his companion take a large gulp of the coffee before pulling out a manila envelope and handed it over. “You texted me you wanted to meet. What’s going on?”

Winston flipped open the envelope and pulled out news clippings and handed them over to Genji. “I have been looking into our mysterious friend. I want to know where he came from. How long he has been active. Anything.” He quieted as the waitress came back and slid a plate in front of Genji.

“I didn’t know you had a son!” The waitress smiled and looked to Winston. Her eyes glazed over as she stared. “He looks so much like you.”

Genji smiled. “He is quite the handsome boy, like his daddy.” He reached over and patted Winston’s head. “Do you know what you want, buddy, or do you want a kiddy menu?”

Winston frowned, “I do not require a children’s menu.” He adjusted his glasses again and opened up the menu and quickly gave his order.

“Aww, ain’t that the most precious thing,” The waitress cooed, “Little man orderin’ off the big boy menu. Would you like some chocolate milk?”

“The coffee is fine,” the gorilla grumbled and locked his gaze on Genji, daring him to laugh as the waitress walked away. “Focus, Genji.” He pushed the news article at the man sitting across from him again. “This is the first sighting that I could find.”

Genji scanned through the brief article and not much was said, just that a pawn shop was robbed by a man in a mask who held the owner at gunpoint. The owner, unnamed, stated the man was looking for something very specific, an antique cigarette case made of pure silver with emeralds inlaid. The owner stated that it was not especially valuable, that the electronics he had were worth more, but the man only stole that, a Snickers bar and a coke.

The article concluded with the owner stating that robbery felt personal. It was not uncommon for family members to sell cherished mementos. If anyone had any knowledge of the robber or the case to then also call the police.

He sighed and looked back to Winston. “How do you know this is our guy?” He pointed to the paper. “Guy robs place in a mask is just too vague. You know that.”

“It’s more of what he wanted than anything,” Winston smirked as he pushed the next paper at him. The damn monkey set him up for the reveal. 

Genji scowled. “Don’t fuck with me, Winston. Just tell me what is going on.”

“It’s the case. The silver one stolen. This mystery man is very specific in what he takes. He has hit up other places as well,” He laid out three more articles that spanned over the past year. “It is always a specific item that he is going for. The piece is always old. It also always has a dark history surrounding it. He loves cursed objects it seems.

“Take this one, for instance,” Winston pointed to the middle article he laid out. “It’s a book from the late 1800’s. It sat in the back of an old book dealer’s house until his death and all his belongings were donated to Westedge’s historical society. The book was falling apart and was currently under restoration when it was stolen. Before it was though, the society published a finding on the old book. It was a handwritten spell tome. Pages of the book were written in blood. This book was used for dark rituals, the binding of souls to objects. It was a how-to book for curses.”

Genji felt a shiver travel down his spine. He had not realized how tightly he gripped the coffee cup in front of him until his fingers began to ache. The idea of binding a soul to something felt like a threat. Memories flooded to him like ghosts. He had heard that term before. He remembered harsh voices. There had been yelling and then the scrape of metal dragging against metal...Hanzo had been there. it felt important to remember. Why was this familiar?

“Pancakes and eggs for you, Sug,” Genji eyes snapped up to the plump features of the waitress as she set down plates in front of him. “And for you, Little Man, a southwestern style omelet. I made the chef make the peppers into a little smiley face there. Careful, those peppers can be quite hot.” She bustled about putting ketchup and syrups onto the table and fawning over the pair a little more before leaving. Genji hardly heard a word.

“So the only connection we have to these robberies is the fact that he wants cursed objects,” Genji stated and looked at the picture of the stolen cigarette case. A snake was carved into the silver. It had dazzling emerald eyes.

“And this man likes Snickers bars and regular, sugared cola.” Winston nodded. “I took the time to start looking up other objects that would fit this man’s modus operandi. This city is filled with people looking to pawn things off as cursed objects. I don’t understand it.”

Genji hummed, “It’s near Halloween, man. Everyone and their uncle is looking for a scare right now. Plus, there's that whole movie series about cursed objects. It’s one of those stupid every year another one comes out series. So demons and spirits don’t get attached to houses anymore. They like more portable things, so they go into dolls and toys and all sorts of creepy looking shit and then it is an hour and a half of jumpscares. I remember after that everyone in school had these damn cursed objects they bought online because ‘Oooh, ghosts’.” Genji rolled his eyes. “Good luck finding the real from the fake.”

Genji stabbed into his pancake and frowned. 

The two sat in silence as they picked at their food. It suddenly looked less appetizing now. He did not like the idea of some crazed thrill seeker attacking his brother. He liked even less the idea that a cursed object was in his home.

“I found something else about our masked friend,” Winston broke the silence and pulled out from the back of his envelope a photograph. He slid it over to Genji. “In the beginning, this man was not as organized. He did not have a costume. He didn’t know how to avoid cameras either.”

The photo looked like it had been shot by a security camera. It was grainy and blurred, but he could make out the figures. The camera was positioned behind the counter of the pawnshop. The owner’s hands were raised in defense. A pistol was in the assailant's hand. The man wore a cheap, black mask, like the kind you would find at a costume shop. It was ill fitting and looked entirely too small for his round face. A red bandana covered the lower part of his jaw, obstructing any real identification from them. He looked about six feet tall with shaggy brown hair. From underneath the bandana, Genji could see wisps of brown hair as well. The man had a beard. He wore a brown leather jacket and blue jeans. “He looks young,” Genji mused. “And like a bandito in an old cowboy movie.”

Winston hummed in agreement. “Someone had to teach him how to dress and act. The video of the robbery was an amateur. His skills are vastly improved if you compare them.”

Genji brought the photograph nearer. He looked so familiar….. 

The alarm on his watch went off. He had a half hour to get to his next class. Genji began to shovel the food into his mouth. “Winston, quick question,” he said between massive bites, “Do you know how to bowl?”

___________

Genji took the stairs up to the apartment two at a time, his heart pounding through his chest as he practically kicked the door open and ditched his bag to the side. Sweat poured down his face as he frantically vaulted over the chair and into his brother’s room. “Hanzo!”

Hanzo bolted upright, the book that had been perched on his chest dropped as panic welled in his deep eyes. “Genji!” He lept up and ran over. “What happened? What’s wrong?” He grabbed his younger brother by the shoulders and twisted him around, looking for bruises.

Genji’s breath slowed. He shook his help. “I need your help, brother. I am in trouble.”

Hanzo nodded. “Anything. Tell me. What happened last night? Who do I need to pay?” Hanzo pushed past him and moved to his bag and knelt down. He pulled out a black ledger. “Whatever it is, Genji, I will take care of it.”

“Teach me how to bowl,” The words tumbled out of his mouth and it felt like time stopped. 

Hanzo froze in place before slowly turning where he squatted and looked back at his brother. His lips slowly moved before he spoke slowly, methodically. “Did you just ask me to teach you how to...bowl?”

Genji nodded.

“Like, the game with the white pins. You roll a ball across the room and knock them over. That kind of bowling?”

He nodded again.

“That is your emergency?”

Again, Genji nodded. “I asked Hana. She said the last time she bowled it was at her sixth birthday party. Lucio is teaching piano and Lena is off saving the world. I need help.” The panic returned to his soft brown eyes. “Anija, please.”

Hanzo’s jaw clenched at the familial title. Genji only called him that when he really wanted something. He knew it made Hanzo vulnerable. His shoulders sank. “Tell me what is going on, Genji.”

Genji sighed and flopped down on the ground. “I swear, I asked everyone I knew and no one knows how to bowl or won’t give up just an hour to teach me. Help me, Anija, you’re my only hope.”

The final morsel of worry drained out of Hanzo. It was quickly replaced with annoyance. “Seriously, Genji, you run into the house like you are being attacked. You spend the entire night out doing who knows what and just come in here and ask me to teach you how to roll a ball.”

Genji pouted up at him from his position on the floor. “What if I told you it was really important.”

“I think I have heard this story from you before. Let me guess” Hanzo crossed his arms over his broad chest and frowned. “You met a boy and went home with him last night. You had a good time with him. He asked you out bowling and now you want me to show you how so you don’t make a complete ass of yourself because you have no filter and probably spent hours making up stories about how you are this amazing athlete and how won trophies for bowling. How close am I?”

Genji opened his mouth and shut it again slowly. “I never bragged.”

“No. Of course not. You are too humble for that,” Hanzo rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen. “If I am taking you to do this ridiculous thing, you will be paying. Plus I want dinner. I skipped lunch. We eat first.”

Genji hopped up and ran over. “Now? You want to go now?”

Hanzo frowned and took his keys out. “I thought that was implied. When is your date?”

Genji tilted his head to the side as he watched his brother. He expected an argument and begging. His goal had been to make a scene and have Hanzo flat out refuse. Genji had talked to all his friends about teaching him, and no one was available or knew how. Winston, on the other hand, had admitted to knowing how to bowl. Genji had been elated. Winston was a fairly good teacher when he was in the sentai man uniform. He was patient and understanding. The problem was, he refused. 

Hanzo was his last-ditch effort. He planned on Hanzo refusing, then he could return to Winston and claim that he had no help.

Hanzo being helpful was...strange. Hanzo looked strange. He squinted a little at his brother as he put on his shoes. There was something fundamentally different with the way his brother looked now versus every other day. “Hanzo, why is your hair down?”

Hanzo’s back went stiff as he shot upright. “What do you mean? I wear my hair down sometimes.”

“Yeah, when you go to bed and shower. You never wear it down in the middle of the day. You said it gets in the way.” Genji’s frown deepened. “And for that matter, why are you wearing a turtleneck? It’s like seventy degrees in here.”

He could see the flush forming across Hanzo’s cheeks as his brother’s gaze moved back to his shoes. “”What I choose to wear and do with my appearance is none of your concern. Tell me more about this boy you were with. I am assuming it was a boy you slept with last night.” 

Genji felt his own face heat up, “I didn’t sleep with anyone….I’ll tell you about him at the bowling alley if you tell me why you look weird.”

Hanzo’s face tightened as he looked at the keys in his hand. “.....Then I will not ask,” He turned and headed out of the apartment without looking back.

Genji could no nothing else but follow.

_________

“You know, you could get me a beer too,” Genji watched as Hanzo drained the final sip out of the brown bottle and set it aside.

“I could, but that would be breaking the law, dear underaged brother,” Hanzo smirked, a sign that the alcohol was having an effect on him. They had spent several hours here already and, much to his amusement, they were actually having a good time. Neither of them was able to bowl particularly well at the start, but now Genji felt he could at least make it down to the end of the alley and at least take out a pin or two.

Hanzo’s record, on the other hand, diminished with every beer poured into him. He stated early on that this was a sport he did not feel obligated to excel in. Instead, he spent the evening getting inebriated. 

Genji found he kind of liked Drunk Hanzo.

“Anija,” He whined and ate a few more greasy french fries. “You have no problem when I am at home and have one, why is here different?”

“Because I need a designated driver to get me back home,” Hanzo cracked a smile. “And also, I do not wish to spend the night in prison because of you again.”

Genji raised an eyebrow at the word again. Hanzo was the most tight-fisted, straight-laced person Genji had ever met. The idea of Hanzo in a jail cell was absurd. He shook his head. “You are drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” Hanzo stood and took his ball up and moved over to the alley. “I am just more comfortable.” Genji laughed as Hanzo’s ball went straight into the gutter. He didn’t even watch his feet of pure failure. Instead, Hanzo flopped back into the vinyl seat and gave Genji an intense stare. “Tell me about this boy you are trying to impress.”

“He is just a friend,” Genji stated. “Really. Just a friend. No romantic nothing. A nice guy I want to be friends with.”

“That’s a change.”

“He’s a monk at the local Shambali temple,” Genji picked up the pencil and began to doodle on the back of the notepad they were given. “I met him that day I did community service and cleaned up the graffiti. He’s a really nice guy.”

Hanzo looked as if he sobered considerably at Genji’s story. “You are friends with a monk. A man who has taken a vow to throw away the excesses of the world and lead a simpler life. You are friends with him?”

Genji nodded. “Yeah. Why? Is that a problem?”

“Genji,” Hanzo blinked a few times. “You were the one that begged me to buy you designer Gucci sunglasses. You own more clothes than anyone I know. You have seven watches so that way you can accessorize every outfit accordingly.”

Genji shrugged, “And?”

“And you are friends with basically the Anti-Genji,” Hanzo snorted and put his head down on the table as laugher rocketed out of him. His shoulders shook as he tried to contain himself and failed. “Oh my God, Genji. Don’t you see?” He sat up and giggled. He pulled his hair up and off his neck, tying it into a knot at the top of his head. “You have reached a new level of narcissism where you want to hang out with yourself so much, you found your polar opposite.”

Genji felt his face flush at Hanzo’s words as anger boiled up. He stomped over and picked up the bowling ball and launched it down the alley. The echoes of the pins crashing followed him back as he sank back into his seat. Hanzo was still chuckling. “Zen is a nice guy,” Genji mumbled out.

“I never doubted that,” Hanzo chuckled. He took his hair out of the tight pony and reestablished it on top of his head before tying it up for a second time. “All of your friends are always good people. Loud and obnoxious, but good people. You attract only good people.”

Genji looked down as his brother spoke, his words were slightly slurred but honest. 

“I like that one girl the best. The spunky one,” Hanzo stated. “With the dark hair. She can come over more.” A cheer rose up from their left. Hanzo craned his neck to the side and watched. His sweater pulling down slightly and revealed dark bruises forming just under his ear.

Genji leaned over and pulled the sweater further down. His eyes went wide. “Hanzo,” He whispered as he saw the line of violent, purple bruises that lined down and across his neck. “W...what happened?”

Hanzo slapped his hand over his neck and pulled away. “I….”

“What happened?” Genji stated. “Hanzo, if that man came back and-”

Hanzo left his hand on his neck to cover the deep bruises. “Just some things came to the surface while I was out today. It is nothing to worry about.” He looked at Genji. “Really. It is nothing.”

“If your bruises are still that fresh looking you need to go to the doctor again, Hanzo. You need to get taken care of.”

Hanzo lifted his empty beer bottle and frowned as he realized it was empty and there was no way to hide behind it. “If you want the truth it’s this; I spent my morning making out with a man and he may or may not have left hickeys all over my neck. It was awesome and amazing and I acted like a fool all day.” Hanzo snorted loudly as he could not keep a straight face through his story. “I seriously made out with a guy hardcore in a museum and we were kicked out. It was so embarrassing.”

Genji sighed and rolled his eyes “Alright, you win, Hanzo, I won’t ask about things that aren’t my business,” He moved to untie his rented shoes “Now, since you have started to talk about kissing boys and are a giggling mess, I think you have had enough fun for the night. Let’s get you home and in bed.” 

He wrapped an arm around Hanzo’s middle and listened as his brother giggled against him. He chuckled himself. “You are the worst kind of drunk, Hanzo, you know that, right?”

___________

Genji managed to Get Hanzo up the stairs, all the while listening to his brother hum out the melody of some song that had been on the radio.He got Hanzo into his room and under the covers before flopping down on his own makeshift bed and pulled out his phone. 

He found a missed message from Zenyatta. He sent a photo of himself, giving the peace sign in front of a kiosk somewhere. Behind him was cheap toys and knock off merchandise featuring the Sentai Warrior. Genji sat up and read the message underneath.

‘Look what I found!! I want to buy two of each!!’ He used two exclamation points. It was rather cute to see the omnic so excited. 

Genji let his fingers fly over the keyboard as he replied. ‘Seriously?’

He laid back and rolled his shoulders as he began a search for some of the items that Winston had found. It did not take long for Zenyatta to reply with another picture.

It was Zenyatta again, wearing a white tee shirt with green sleeves. On the front was a cartoon rendition of the Sentai Warrior. Zenyatta himself was giving another peace sign. A plush version of the Sentai Warrior in his arms. 

Genji smiled at the omnic’s cute face. He clicked on his photos and took a quick selfie to send to the other. He was not wearing anything special, but he was cute. He sent it off with a message, ‘I practiced bowling tonight. I got a 145. This is like golf, right? I want the low score?’ 

Zenyatta replied with a single icon, a robotic hand giving a thumbs up. Genji smiled and picked up his bag and drug out the folder Winston had given him. The mystery man had only several weeks between his hits. It seemed like he spent time preparing where and when to strike well before he actually robbed the place.

Cursed objects....It creeped him out, thinking that someone went out of their way to collect things that were so broken…

He sighed and reached back into his bag to pull out a pen and notepad. He blinked as his fingers brushed something in the bottom of the bag. He dragged out an old book, the cover showed a man holding a robot tenderly in his arms. It reminded him a bit of some of the cheap romances that Hanzo denied reading. His phone dinged again.

‘I expect you have not gone through your things yet,’ Zenyatta stated a second later, the rest of the message came through. ‘I leant you a book. You said you didn’t like to read, but that is a most enjoyable novel. It is about a robot wishing to be human. There is a bit of a romance element to it, but I find the interactions fascinating.’

Genji smiled and set the book aside. ‘Thanks. I’ll read it,’ he typed before rubbing his eyes. ‘Got early morning classes again tomorrow. I’ll see you on Thurs.’

He went back to his folders and began to lay out a timeline of events, laying Hanzo’s assault at the end. There had to be more to this...it was staring him in the face, he just had to find it.

_________

Wednesday was a slog to get through. Genji had classes, followed by working his evening in the shop. Mostly, he wanted Wednesday to be over so he could spend more time with Zenyatta.

But it was worth the time apart. Genji sat in the middle as the fifth member of Zenyatta’s bowling team, “Great Big Balls”. He wanted to snicker at the name, but Zenyatta looked so earnest and proud of the name. He even made Genji a team shirt with the team name and logo on the back in big, bright lettering. He now wore it proudly.

Zenyatta tilted his head as he watched Genji, “Have you enjoyed the novel I left for you?”

Genji bit his lower lip. “I have not started it yet. It looks really interesting...with the robot on the cover and the human bits too....” 

Zenyatta chuckled and looked at his teammates. The other omnics were crowded around the score sheets. They spoke quietly and looked at the team of nuns to their left. Genji realized that this group strategized a lot about what they were doing. He rather enjoyed spending time with them, even if they were rather cautious around him. 

So far, every ball he rolled ended up right in the gutter. The nuns around him would cheer loudly.every time Genji would stand for his turn. Even though he knew they did not have facial movement, it felt like the other omnics would scowl. 

He knew the current meeting was about him, about how they could correct his mistakes and still make it out on top. Genji crossed his arms over his chest and looked to the one monk that was not sitting in the group. 

Zenyatta sat serenely and watched Genji. He was wearing the ugly teal shirt. It was oversized on his thin frame and made him appear much smaller than he actually was. A black baseball cap sat on his head. “Are you not enjoying yourself, Genji?”

“Naw,” Genji waved him off. “I’m having a good time. I just feel bad that your score is tanking because of me.”

“Sister Mary is quite happy you are here,” Zenyatta hummed and looked over at the nuns and waved. “And I am as well. It is good to spend more time with you.”

Genji looked at the phone in his hands, “You’re a good friend,” He stated. “I still want to thank you for the other night, telling me to sleep over. I had a great time, even if I fell asleep.”

“You are welcome to stay with me anytime you wish.”

Genji swallowed as Zenyatta’s words washed over him. With any other man, Genji would have taken that kind of comment as flirting. He would have then turned up his own natural charisma and spend the whole evening trying to charm his way into his bed. 

The monk was unreadable, though. He was kind and sweet but a monk. He took a vow of chastity and, even more, Genji was a human. It would never work out.

“Thank you for the offer,” Genji stated. “It has been a very long time since I stayed with a friend. It was nice to just talk to someone.”

“I agree. My brothers and sisters at the monastery, they are good and kind, but it is wonderful to spend time with someone with a different perspective.”

Genji opened his mouth to respond. He wanted to crack a dirty joke or make some lewd comment, but Zenyatta was so sweet and pure. He did not want to complicate their friendship. He opened his mouth again to speak, but Zenyatta interrupted. “It is your turn, Genji.

He gave a curt nod and stood. He took a step forward and remembered his phone was still in his hand. He set it on the table and awkwardly moved over to grab his ball. Why was he always so flustered around this omnic? He had spoken to others omnics before and never felt this tongue-tied. Hell, even around people he liked he never felt so frazzled. 

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and looked down the long lane of the alleyway. He tried, desperately to focus on the sounds of the pins crashing around him, and not on the calculated looks of the other omnic teammates. 

Zenyatta has said that they were a decent team, compared to the others in the league. He had said that the others would readily take Genji in as one of them. That was before he saw the perfect three hundred game streak that three of the other omnics had. Zenyatta was the only one of them to not have a perfect record in the scorebooks. He had a 299.

And here was Genji, lining up another dumb play that would tank their winning streak record. The only person amused by his performance was the only omnic sitting there with a less than perfect score. He desperately wanted to ask the monk why he had missed one single pin in all his games. He desperately wanted to launch himself with the ball down the alleyway and get crunched to death by the pinsetter as well.

He spared a look back to the team. All eyes were on him. The three leaned forward. He could see them calculating out his stance and form as well as his throwing power and the spin he would put on the ball. Zenyatta sat back, serenely. His feet crossed in the seat as he cocked his head to the side. He seemed as if he were smiling.

Genji took a deep breath and turned back to the alleyway. He lined up his shot and rolled the ball. The omnics cheered as he managed to knock down seven of the pins. He let out the breath he did not realize he had been holding and moved back to wait for his ball.

Zenyatta continued to watch.

His second shot was not quite so impressive. It rolled straight down the center and missed the remaining three pins. Still, though, it brought his score up to the double digits. He smiled as he dropped back into his seat, content with not moving for at least a few more minutes. 

“Are you hungry, my friend?” Zenyatta asked calmly. “I have noticed that others usually partake in beer and wings. Would you care for some?”

Genji laughed and shook his head. “Naw, man, that’s fine.” He looked over to where the nuns had several empty bottles of beer and stacks of empty fry baskets. He did not realize that nuns could drink. Hell, he never thought of that before.

“I insist. It was my idea to bring you here, Genji. It would be only fair to host you in such a way. Take care of your human needs, as it were.”

Genji snatched his phone off the table as he denied Zenyatta again. He had to look at something other than Zenyatta’s calm face. He had to do something else than thinking about what kind of care Zenyatta would give him. He had felt the monk’s strong, long fingers on his shoulders. A shiver rippled through his core as he tried in vain to drive those thoughts from his head. THe omnic did not feel for him in any way beyond friendship. He had opened his home to Genji and offered him a place to stay when he was at his lowest point. Genji was acting like a fool when it came to this man. 

He leaped up as his phone began to buzz in his hand and he quickly answered it, silently thanking whomever it was for getting him out of this awkward situation. ”Hello?”

“Genji, this is Winston. I know you are out with your friend tonight, but something came up. I need to talk to you. Now.”

Genji gave a shrug at Zenyatta’s slight movement and slowly stood, moving away to the back of the bowling area where it was darker and the country music that played overhead was slightly muffled, “What is going on? Is everyone safe?”

“Yes, everyone is fine.” Winston took a deep breath and continued “I was looking into different businesses in the area, trying to calculate out where this mystery man would hit next. I think I found it.”

Genji turned back to the crowd as he leaned against the wall. He tried to look more casual than he actually. His heart began to beat heavily in his chest as his guardian continued.

“I don’t have anything exact, but I have an idea. I need for you to come here. Check this out with me”

His heart dropped as the muscles in his stomach twisted. “Tonight? Right now?”

“Genji,” Winston paused. “I know this is difficult. I know you are still learning to balance your two lives but I saw something earlier. I need you here Genji.”

Genji groaned and looked over to where the Omnics were bowling with pristine accuracy. The nuns were sitting closer to the omnic team now. They watch the monks like hawks as they whispered between them. Zenyatta faced the women as he held the golden colored bowling ball in his delicate grip as he talked with them. His unoccupied hand swayed with his words until the group of women let out an uproarious laughter. Genji felt the pang in his heart increase. “And you are sure you need me tonight?” He asked. “Like...right now right now?”

“Genji, I am sitting on the roofs. I can see movement on the streets. There is something happening here, I don’t know what, but something is happening.” Winston told him where to go. 

Genji fell silent as he grabbed a napkin and scratched down the address quickly. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He sighed as he hung up and slipped the phone and the address deep inside his pocket. Once again, his gaze turned to Zenyatta and felt an ache well deep within him. This had to happen though. Being the protector of the city was now his life. This was his path. He braced his nerves as he moved back over to Zenyatta. “Can we talk?”

“You seem troubled.” Zenyatta stepped away and touched Genji’s arm lightly. “What has happened, my friend?”

Genji let out a long sigh and felt his stomach turn as the lie spilled from his lips. His mind rested on the cool fingers that lightly ghosted along his forearm. It felt wrong to lie to the monk. Zenyatta was always so open and honest with him, he did not want to break the trust he was building. “That was a call from home. I just...I have to head home.” He kept it simple. He wasn’t sure what he would say when Zenyatta probed him further for information. 

“I understand, it has been a difficult time.” He squeezed his elbow lightly. “Thank you for coming out, Genji. I always enjoy our time together, no matter how brief it is.”

Genji flittered. He felt electricity roll up his arm and settle against his spine. Warmth spread through his soul. He managed a smile. “I hope it is nothing. If I can, I will get back here as soon as possible.” He stood still and looked down at where Zenyatta still held his arm. He did not want to move away and lose that simple contact. “I will come back for you.”

He turned and headed out.

_________

Hanzo grunted as he lugged out the chest he had stashed away in the back of his closet. It was a heavy load, Hanzo knew, but it had to stay hidden. In the light of his bedroom, the shiny black lacquered box looked just as menacing as the first time he laid eyes on it. It scared him as a child. It was not the ivory dragon that swirled along the tops and sides. The dragon, his mother had said, was their protector. If anything were to befall the family, the ivory beast would leap off the box and come to life. No, it wasn’t what was on the box. It was what lay within.

It first belonged to his grandfather, then Father. Now, it was to belong to him. His burden.

Hanzo looked up, sure he heard the lock in the door. He relaxed a fraction as time passed and nothing further could be heard. Genji was still out. He would be out for the remainder of the evening and, knowing his brother, the younger Shimada would use his charm and appeal and would con his way into someone’s bed. He would not be interrupted. He would have the time to prepare and execute his plan.

Deep inside, though, he wished Genji would call. Would need him. He could then bury this box away again and pretend it did not exist. He did not want this burden.

Hanzo swallowed back the fear and resolved himself. His hands did not shake this time as he worked on the delicate locks. This time, also, he did not have his uncle at his back. This time there was no screams for mercy.

The lock came off with a click and the top popped up. Hanzo peered into the darkness that lay within the dangerous box. It looked like a mouth, ready to snap his fingers off the moment he got too close. 

He was being foolish again. He clenched his jaw tight and threw open the lid.

Nothing happened.

The box sat there, in his room. There was nothing but the dark red silk of his mother’s kimono, neatly folded on top of everything else. He reached down and touched the delicate fabric, remembering the warmth that it once held. Now, it was cold.

Once Genji saw the box, Hanzo knew it could no longer be his private penance. The box had been laid out in the middle of his living space. For years he had the chest perfectly balanced to be the first thing he saw when he entered his home and the last thing he saw before he fell asleep at night. It had to be. It held his sins. He needed that constant reminder of why he could no longer be trusted. 

Genji had always been curious though. He asked about it incessantly. Soon, Hanzo’s quiet retribution became an ever-present force. Hanzo said nothing. Instead, he hid the chest away in the back of his closet, piling things over the cover to keep out anyone who dared look.

He quietly let his hand caress the dark red garment. He closed his eyes and tried to envision her perfume. It was something sweet and warm. It fluttered away, at the edges of his memories, close enough to remember but…

Hanzo turned back to the trunk, stacking the other remnants of his parent’s possessions aside. They were dead. Ghosts to him now. What he needed lay at the bottom, underneath everything else his parents were. He had hit it away, much like he had hidden away their memories.

Under everything lay the uniform of his family legacy. Hanzo felt his stomach twist into knots as he slowly removed it from the chest, piece by piece. The dark blue silk was not what he had expected when he first laid eyes on it. Sojiro Shimada was a man who reveled in his personal style. A man who had said that half his power came from how people perceived him. He wore the best tailor cut suits. The most elegant of accessories. He had the family to match.

But this...his father’s legacy left to him was that of a simple, dark blue outfit. Loose Hakama pants, knee high boots, dark gloves and a kimono top. Each piece looked worn but still elegant. Each piece did not have a single marking of adornment, but it’s simplicity made it regal.

“Never go out in black,” His father had said. He remembered sitting on the end of the bed, watching his father dress. He had nodded along with his father’s instructions. “Black is an obvious color. You cannot blend into the shadows if you are darker than the shadows.” His father’s deep voice was like velvet as it washed over him and calmed his nerves. 

He had been scared, especially of the mask his father wore. White with red horns protruding from the forehead and deep-set crimson eyes. Sharp teeth bulged from the mouth and twisted away. An oni of mythology, his mother would explain as she coddled him in her warm embrace. Her soft kisses on his forehead as he cried over and over that it would eat father. 

Their family was special. They were protected by dragons. That is why Father had the dragon marked on his skin. The long tattoo that encompassed his chest and around to his back. The long line of scales that encircled him. Dragons would protect from the teeth of an oni, that is why he could wear the mask and not fear. He had dragons.

Her soft words comforted him until he was eventually lulled into a sound sleep. Everything was always right in the mornings. He would be greeted by his stern father and not the cruel smile of an oni. The dragons had protected him again.

Nothing but a foolish fairy tale to tell an idiotic child. Dragons did not always protect and sometimes the oni won. He could still hear the screams of fright. The cold steel in his hands…

He should have smashed the oni that night. Rid himself of its cursed gaze forever. 

But he hadn’t… He wasn’t his father. He was not as strong. His dragons were of ink and skin, nothing more. He could see the oni, half hidden in shadows, wrapped up tightly in white gauze. It’s cruel smile and secrets hidden away from the world. 

It waited.

He was many things. He would not be an oni. He would not devour everything around him.

His lips tingled and began to go numb as the corners of his vision start to blur. Hanzo slammed the lid shut. He bit hard into his lip, trying to get feeling to return to him. He wiped the sweat from his palms against his pants as he lept to his feet and backed away. His head began to swim and pound against the back of his eyes.

He snatched the clothes up from the floor and quickly dressed. They felt alien against his flesh as he worked at the ties to make sure nothing would move or alter during his night. He had to be invisible and leave no trace of where he was. He had to be like a ghost.

Hanzo tied his hair up into a tight knot at the top of his head and sank into the end of the mattress that sat on the floor.

He made a mental note to look for furniture. He needed to get a bed for Genji. It had been almost two months since they moved to this new city, and yet he felt like they were not even close to settled. He wanted to feel like a human again.

He licked his dry lips and closed his eyes. Maybe tonight...he could take a little extra….just enough to cover some comforts...enough to make him feel human again…

“No,” He growled and stood up. He paced the room like a trapped lion. He was not going to stoop so low. Ogundimu forced him to do this errand. He would not fall into that trap and become a dirty street thief. Besides, if that bastard was to find that he took more than what was asked...He didn’t want to think of what would happen…

The night drew on. He had to move swiftly, or lose his nerve. He took one final glance around his room. He needed something to cover his face. This was only temporary. He did not need a mask and mantle like his father before him. Just something to disguise his features. 

His mother’s kimono lay on the floor still, pooled like blood on his floor. Her dark hair ribbon next to her. He knelt down and picked up the thin silk band of fabric and let it roll in his fingers. Slowly, he wrapped it around his lower face. He secured it to the back of his head. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, imagining her perfume still lingered. 

Hanzo grabbed a small, leather purse and strapped it to his belt as he moved to the windows. He could not take the door, nor could he walk the streets. It would be too obvious. He would have to keep to the shadows and buildings, out of any line of sight or any stray camera. 

He dimmed the light and opened the window before stealing into the dark night.

______________

“I can’t stay out too late,” Genji mumbled and looked over at Winston. He could feel his eyes grow tired and itch. He could not rub them through the mask he wore. They had been perched above the buildings for over an hour now, waiting for something to arise. Even with the suit, that protected his body from car crashes and flying bullets could not protect him against the cold bite of autumn nights and the ache from sitting for far too long. “Come on, Winston, let’s call it a night. No one is coming.”

It was nearing two in the morning. Even the drunks had headed to bed. The streets below were as quiet and desolate as the grave. By now, Zenyatta would have been back in his room now, comfortable and warm and asleep. Where he wanted to be as well.

Winston let out a deep sigh as he took another glance at the jewelry store below, his hands rested against his knees. “I could have sworn that something would happen tonight.”

“Why this place?” Genji asked as he stretched his arms over his head. His spine gave a delicious pop as everything went back into alignment. 

“On Friday there is suppose to be a gala at that shop. Some rare jewels are going to be displayed for the rich and famous of Westedge. Some very expensive pieces are going to be auctioned off to raise money for a children’s charity.”

Genji nodded. “So old things with a history are gathered in one place and severely under-protected. Gotcha,” He nodded again. “It’s three in the morning and I have classes. I want to catch this guy as much as you do, Winston but I have to sleep.”

Winston looked at the store one final time and nodded. “You’re right.” He stood up and stretched his own back out. “I was so sure. Everything lined up. The Violet Sapphire of Cortez is going to be the centerpiece of that gala. It is at that store there.” Winston grumbled.

Genji looked back. “I think we can spare a little more time,” He smiled and patted Winston’s head and settled himself on the edge of the building. He looked down. “Your information is never wrong.” 

____________

Hanzo could feel his hackles raise as he gazed into the vacant room from the outside. Breaking in would be the easy part. The second story windows were not lined with bars, nor were they heavily secure. The sealed around the window was just some caulking and paint. With a flourish with his knife, it fell away easily enough. Hanzo was able to jam a knife into the seal and slam the palm of his hand against the hilt of the knife. The window came open with a pop. It was just enough to allow him to slip inside.

The silence was deafening. He stepped gingerly into the room, his ears listening closely for the sounds of alarms. Instead, it was silent. His cloth shoes muffled his step, but he could still hear the tight tap. It was too quiet in here. His footsteps still echoed off the bare walls, through the open door and down the hall. He shut the window quickly and made sure the drapes hung like they had not been disturbed. 

He would have to move slowly. Each footfall carefully calculated out. He turned and took in his surroundings. There would not be time for any searching. Even if he could not hear the alarm sound, he had to have set off some security system. Someone would be here eventually. 

At one time, this room would have been a comfortable library. Hanzo could imagine ember glows illuminating the room as a fire roaring in the elegant, oak fireplace. Two high back maroon chairs sat in the middle of the room with a small, dainty table between them with stacks of reprinted vintage magazines. The walls were inlaid with thick, oak shelves where leather bound books once rested. Those books were gone, replaced with cheap cardboard stand-ins.The room looked false. Nothing felt organic, it all felt staged for someone else’s amusement. The pale moonlight streamed into the room as the clouds passed away and bathed the room in a silvery glow. It felt like a mausoleum.

Hanzo silently moved into the hallway and pressed himself into the shadows. He listened. He was confident now there was no night watchman. A museum of this side would not be capable of keeping a guard on staff throughout the night. But a security company would be on call.It was a matter of minutes before someone came to check out the disturbance. That was all the time he needed, a matter of minutes. 

He slinked along the wall like a cat. His body was low to the ground and cast in the dark. The red blip of the camera at the forefront of his mind. If he stayed low, stayed dark, it would only catch trace amounts of him. They would know by the morning of his deeds, but if he left no clues. If he was like the night, he could disappear and never be the one caught. 

He moved easily from shadow to shadow, drifting with the movement of the clouds outside. He wished it had been cloudier. He wished it hadn’t been a full moon. Right now it was too bright to move any faster. Human eyes would never have noticed him. The artificial eye of the camera was a different matter. It could not be distracted. It could not be fooled. He had to be careful.

From below, a door slammed shut. He felt ice formed in his veins as heavy footsteps began to grow in intensity as they moved to the main stairs. “Look, I’m here,” A gruff voice echoed up to him. Within seconds he heard the stomping of heavy feet on the stairs and the quaking beam of a flashlight illuminated the ceiling.“Second time tonight. Third time this week. Five bucks says it is nothing. Again”

“Look, jackass, just check out the second story. That’s where the alert came from,” Came the tinny reply. The man must have been on his phone, Hanzo realized. 

The silver moonlight faded into velvety darkness as clouds rolled across the moon. The hallway was blanketed in a thick darkness. Hanzo twisted and moved shot off into the main bedroom right as the footsteps reached the main hall of the second floor. His own footfalls made little noise over the voice of the guard.

The harsh beam of a flashlight flickered and rolled along the hallway as the security guard gave a harsh laugh, “I told you this last time. The fucking alarm system is broke as shit. It goes off every time a cricket farts in this place. Told them a month ago to get it fixed. It costs them a pretty penny every time we come out for nothin’.”

“Look,” The other voice on the other line of the phone said with an edge to it. “It may be a cricket fart, but you know if anything were to happen there and we didn’t check it out, it would be my ass on the line, Craig. Just fucking do your job then get back to base.”

The guard’s footsteps fell just outside the master bedroom and stopped. “How about this; instead of me going ‘round and checking out all seven hundred empty rooms of this dump, I just check out the one room that has anything of value, then I come on back and stop wasting any more of your time.”

Hanzo did not hear the reply from the base. He forced his breath to slow and his hands not to tremble as he gripped the edge of the table between two displays. He moved slowly, as to not catch the guard’s eye as he crouched down. He was able to see the guard. The flashlight shone in and hit the violet sapphire and did not move. Hanzo pressed himself further into the shadows as the pale moonlight grew in intensity and drew long shadows along the floor.

“Got nothing for you, Boss. Same-old same-old here.”

“Do your fucking job and check every damn room, idiot! I am not putting my job on the line because of you!”

“Well, I’m not checking the first floor again. I did that twenty minutes ago.” The beam of the flashlight moved away. It illuminated the tea sets that sat on the other side of the room and began a slow sweep of the area. Hanzo backed further into the corner as the slow glide of light moved.

Hanzo swallowed. He clenched his fists and set his jaw. His back tensed, ready to pounce on the man the second the light hit him and revealed his location. A thief that was noticed was a bad thief. A thief that was caught was finished. 

He could not leave without that stone. He had very little choice in the matter. An explosion of color illuminated the room as the glow of the flashlight hit the violet sapphire. His mind worked fast. What was he to do when eventually caught? He could run, but then he would lose the jewel. After that, the necklace would be kept under heavier locks and keys and he would never get a chance at it again.

There were only two options were left.

God, he did not want to fight his way out. The security guard would be armed. Maybe not with a gun, but a taser or pepper spray at the least. If he made for the necklace now, he would be taken down before he even got the case open or…

No, killing was not an option. Not ever. He was a good man, not a monster.

There was a third option. He could just turn himself in now and be done with the whole thing. They would go easy on a first time offender...maybe…

But this would not be his first time sitting in a jail cell.

No. There weren’t three options. There was only one. Get the necklace and get out. Before anything else happened.

Hanzo swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. The white dot of light continued it’s trail, over the exhibits and drew ever nearer to him. He braced himself harder against the wall as he watched the agonizingly slow drawl of the light.

Below him, a window shattered. The guard spun on his heel. “Did you hear that?” He hissed out, “Shit. We got a break in! Call backup!” Hanzo watched the guard back into the room, his hand on his hit where a firearm laid. The guard slowly drew his weapon and held it low, his flashlight pointed forward as he stalked out of the room. The sound of his footsteps was lighter as they made their way down the hall.

He had to move fast. Hanzo surged forward and grabbed his tools from his belt. He nearly collided with the glass that held the gems. He fumbled with metal pick in his gloved hands. He had never worked in his father’s gloves before. They slipped in his grip and dropped with a clatter to the floor. 

“Damn damn damn!” He snarled out. Down the hall, he could still hear the guard’s footsteps as he moved. His heart beat wildly in his chest. 

Were they coming or going? Think Hanzo! Those steps. Were they drawing near? Either way, the guard would be back soon. This time he would be on high alert. Hanzo looked up at the gemstone that sat inches away. He pressed his hand against the glass.

Two shots rang out from below. Hanzo flinched. He looked back to the empty doorway, sure he was going to see the guard at any moment, weapon raised and trained on him. An angry voice rang out as the shrill blare of police sirens sounded from far away. 

They would be nearer soon.

He moved quickly, ramming his elbow hard into the glass case and covering his face with the other. The glass groaned and splintered. He rammed it again, with more force. The ache rolled up his arm. He was glad for the tattoo, it would hide the bruise tomorrow.

Glass shattered. It rained down at his feet as a loud buzzer sounded. From below he heard the hurried footsteps of whoever remained behind. He snatched the jewels off the mannequin and shoved them deep into the leather pouch that rested against his hip.

His footsteps fell lightly, barely making a sound as he ran back the way he came through the hall. 

“Up there! Shit! There are two!” He heard the shout as he practically dove into the library. Below him came another loud crash. Hanzo slammed the door shut and turned the lock. It was not enough, but it could buy him some time. Just enough time. 

This was bad. His head swam as he looked around the room. Red and blue lights flicker in through the window. From beyond the door, he heard the scuffle of feet and the shouts of angry men.

Hanzo lept to the window and threw it open. The cold night air hit him in the face like a sharp slap, stealing his breath away as he swung out onto the ledge. His hand gripped the cool stone masonry and began to scale the building like a lizard. He could not wait for a better opportunity. Nor could he risk a look back at the police. He did not want to know if they saw him. He could be faster. He could disappear into the night if he just got to the roof. 

He had to get out. Everything was wrong. This was meant to be quick and easy. His hands easily moved from stone to stone, up the embellishments of the building. 

His hand reached farther and farther up. He would make it. He could then run. He could hide. He could forget that this night ever happened. Eleven things now. Only eleven, then he would be free.

He stretched himself out, reaching to the ledge. It was so close. He could then hide away, in the shadows. He would disappear forever.

The stone slipped from his grasp. His footing stumbles. Below he could hear the loud wail of a siren as his hand scrambled to find purchase. 

Something thrust out in the darkness and gripped tightly to his wrist. Hanzo felt himself hauled up with ease to the rooftop. “Whoa there, Sugar,” The calculated drawl sent shivers down his spine. He looked up into the smug, masked face of a man in black. “You sure are makin’ that look easy.”

Hanzo’s face heated up as the anger boiled within him. That mystery man. The one that humiliated him. He stood there against the backdrop of the city, looking as smug as he did the day he violated Hanzo’s shop. “You,” Hanzo snarled. His fists clenched at his sides as he took a step forward.

The masked man held up his hands and mirrored Hanzo’s movements, “Hold up, now. Is that any way to treat the man that just saved your ass. By my recollection, you were almost caught back there, and I done saved your sorry hide.”

The man hooked his thumbs into the looks of his belt and rolled onto the balls of his feet. The easy roll of his shoulder only added to his arrogant nature.Tonight, he looked very much the same as he had the night they first met, dressed in dark colors and navy blue, a tall dark hat perched on top of his slicked back hair. Gone was the cape that had been draped over his shoulder. Instead, he wore an impeccably tailored suit jacket that hugged his natural curves. It made him look lean and strong. 

He could see his facial structure through the darkness of the night. He had not replaced the blue scarf that covered the lower half of his face from before. Maybe he would be looking to reclaim it.

The man did not recognize him though… 

Why would he? He would not know Hanzo from any other target. The anger within him boiled up again at the notion.

“Fool,” Hanzo snarled. Below them would be police officers. They would soon know where he was. He was foolish for not shutting that window after him.“This is your fault.”

“My fault?” The man threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. “From where I was standin’, Darlin’, you were the one in trouble. That guard nearly caught you, slinking in the corners like a damn cockroach. Naw, I saved your sorry ass. You owe me there, buckaroo.”

Hanzo sneered at the familiarity the man used. “Idiot. You were the one to set off the alarms before I even arrived. If it were not for you, I would have been in and out before any of this happened.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I actually was outta there when your sorry ass crawled in that window. You are lucky I decided to come back to help, Magpie. Going after the jewels. That is ballsy. Those things were all kinds of wired up.”

The sound of a megaphone screeched to life as a muffled voice came from the ground. “You are surrounded. There is no escape. Turn yourselves in.”

Hanzo ignored the order. At most, there were two squad cars below. The only way up to the roof was a single fire escape. For now, they were safe and alone. He felt the anger and tension of the last few minutes dissipating at the mere presence of this cocky man and his incessant need to banter. “Am I to be like you and steal posters from the gift shop?”

The man let out another roar of laughter and patted the tube that was strapped to his back. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but throwing down forty dollars on a print is a waste of money. Why go for that when the real thing is just right there.” The mystery man swaggered towards the building to their left with a tinkling jingle to his stride. Hanzo glanced down. He had not noticed the boots before, nor the silver spurs on the ends. “I never caught your name there, partner.”

“I didn’t give it, Mystery Man” Hanzo stated. 

“Mystery Man? That don’t roll off the tongue to good. I prefer….Vigilante.”

“That is too bad, Mystery Man,” Hanzo called out to him. “You do not get to pick your name. It is a gift bestowed on you.” Hanzo walked backward to the opposite side of the building. “And you are dull and nothing about you would roll off my tongue easily.”

“That sounds like a challenge, Magpie.” The mystery man brought his hands to his chest and let out a dramatic sigh, “Then I implore you, my beautiful, demon thief, grant me a better name.”

“I can think of many things to call you. I doubt very much you would like any of them.” 

“Just hearing your voice would be enough,” The man winked before cocked his head slightly to the left as if he were listening to something. In an instant, his demeanor changed. He stood more rigid. His smile faded away. “Look, this was fun and all, but truth be told, I was kind this time around. It ain’t every day you run into a pretty little thief in my line of business. My hospitality ends here. As you can see, you ain’t good for business.”

“Are you threatening me?” Amusement poured out of every word. He preened under the other’s words. 

The amusement was gone from the other man, though “I ain’t not threatening you,” The man shrugged, then the cocky smirk returned “But if you aren’t hauled into a cell, I wouldn’t mind sharing a tumble with you.”

Below them came the scrapes of the fire escape ladder being pulled down. The mystery man turned and looked at buildings across the way. “Whelp, my little magpie, that’s my cue to be heading out.” He gave a short, two-finger salute. “Good luck with those guys.” He ran at the edge of the building, pulling his gun out of his holster and fired into the air as he moved. Out if it came a thin rope of metal that gripped the edge of the building adjacent and the mystery man began to repel up the side of the building. 

Despite his bulking size, the mystery man seemed nimble when the need arose. Hanzo ticked his head to the side and watched his backside as he scaled up the building with relative ease.

Behind him, the sound of heavy footsteps on the fire escape drew closer. He heard the scraping of their heavy shoes on the metal rungs of the ladder that led to him. Hanzo tore his gaze away as the mysterious man disappeared from sight.

It was time he left as well. Hanzo turned and ran at the opposite end of the building, away from the fire escape and away from the pursuing police officers. He could feel the necklace as it bounces in his pocket. The weight was a comfort. He had done it. He succeeded. 

He chest swelled as his feet left the rooftop. He felt as if he were gliding over the alleyway and landed on the next building with a gentle touch. There were no lights up here. There was no one. He had made it.

________

Genji was grateful for the mask that obstructed his face as he watched the scene play out before him. At first, he had not noticed the quiet car, his gaze had been on the Jewelers. He was just about to call it finished when the blinding lights of a police car illuminated the deserted street.

He looked to Winston, who stared back with the same shocked expression. They had seen nothing. No one enter. No one even went near that place….Then the car passed by. It’s sirens blaring loudly as it turned the corner. 

They followed. 

It was just down the block, not much farther away when it stopped in front of an old, quiet looking building across the street from where Genji and Winston stood. There was one other car outside, gray and beaten with black lettering on the side. A man ran out from the large, oaken doors of the old manor house and gestured wildly. The two police officers drew their weapons and went in.

“What do we do?” Genji looked at his companion. He had planned on foiling a robbery before it started. This….this was different…

“We do nothing,” Winston stated quietly. “We don’t know what it is right now.”

Genji felt a shiver roll across his body as he watched the empty building. He felt the minutes tick by, thinking them as hours.

“There!” Winston shouted, his finger pointing out. Genji strained his eyes in the darkness, trying to glimpse at what Winston was able to detect. His eye caught movement and he saw him; a person crawling out of a second story window. The man was barely visible in the dark night. He was like a spider that hung onto the wall. It wasn’t until he moved that Genji could focus on him.

“He’ll jump!” Genji cried out. He gripped Winston’s shoulder and leaned in. Instead, the man began to scale upwards, as if the building did not resist him and gravity did not matter. Genji’s eyes traveled up further and locked on the second figure in the dark. 

This second figure leaned over the side, watching the first man move until he was near the top, then hauled him the rest of the way up, as if he weighed nothing. “Winston…”

The gorilla nodded in response, “There he is,” He mumbled. “Our mystery man.”

“There are two of them,” Genji shook his head. “How did we miss that?” He watched as the two men almost circled each other.

“I didn’t. The mystery man has always worked alone. There has never been a second in any of the incidents. This is...wrong. Nothing about this is...normal for him.”

Genji continued to watch the scene. The two thieves seemed to be talking, but neither was moving away. “Why don’t they run?”

“You are surrounded,” Below, the two police officers leaned out of the second story window and looked upwards, one held out a megaphone and spoke into it. “There is no escape. Turn yourselves in.”

The men on the roof ignored the call. Instead, they continued to chat.

“Winston, I can’t just stand here and watch.” He crouched down, as if ready to pounce.

“Genji, no!” Winston grabbed his arm and held it tight. “There are two of them! We already know that the one is strong enough to take down your brother. We know nothing about the other one. And there are other lives on the line!”

The police officers disappeared from the window. Genji gave a curt nod. “I won’t let them go,” he vowed.

The mystery man backed away. Soon, he was moving up a building. Genji stood. “I’m going after him.”

“Wait!” The other ran towards the opposite building. He lept off and began to scale the other building like he had before. Like it was nothing. “Go after him. The new one!”

“Why?” Genji shouted, but followed orders, running along the ramparts of the building. His eyes were locked on the other thief. The new one.

His com hissed to life and suddenly, Winston’s voice was in his head. “I want to know who he is! Where he came from! Don’t get too close, just follow!”

Genji huffed and ducked his head low as he sprang from one building to the next. The dark thief was fast. Much faster than Genji anticipated. Was this man augmented to be a better sprinter? A better jumper? Genji followed by him, block by block until flash of police lights faded from view.

The man took a sudden turn and scaled down the building. In front of him sat the edge of the city, where the old buildings and the new construction collided. Now the buildings were sleek and shiny with the glass faces. He could go no further on this route. He had to go down.

Genji huffed and followed suit, dropping down the side to the street below. Sweat poured from his body as his lungs began to burn. No one had him run like this before. All the other times Genji pursued, it was easy. He was more amused by them then challenged. This thief was a demon disguised as a human. 

Genji’s feet hit the pavement hard. He wanted to collapse. To give in. Instead, the demon stood there, his dark gaze piercing Genji to the spot. 

“Winston,” Genji whispered. “Holy shit, Winston. He saw me.”

The communicator was silent. The thief stalked forward. He eyed Genji as if he were a bug. “Why do you follow me?” He snarled through the deep red mask he wore.

His eyes were dark and unreadable. Genji took a step back. There was something familiar in that intense gaze. It unnerved him. Those dark eyes….

Genji rolled his shoulders back. Show no fear. “I won’t let you get away with it,” he stated. His voice did not waver.

The thief looked him over and laughed. “And how will you stop me, Sentai Man?” The thief moved swiftly. He grabbed Genji by the helmet and slammed him down onto his knee. 

Genji wheezed. The thief’s strong arms came down hard between his shoulder blades. He hit the pavement hard, the breath pulled from his lungs.

He groaned and pushed himself up. The street was empty. He was alone.

“Genji!” He turned and looked over at Winston swung down to the street. “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I’m fine.” He grunted and sat on the curb, breathing heavily. Everything ached now. He could feel a bruise forming below his suit. “How is it I can get hit with a car and feel nothing, but that jackass hits me twice and I’m winded?”

A large hand rested on his shoulder. “The suit forms to protect you. It must not have thought his hands dangerous.” 

Genji sat in silence. His breath slowly evened out. A low, throbbing ache settled deep in his bones. “That man, Winston…” His voice trailed away. “I’ve seen him before. I don’t know where...I’ve seen those angry eyes before though…” Genji looked down at his hands, trying to get his heart rate to slow. “He is a demon, Winston. I think he may be an honest to god devil...I think….I want to go home.”

_________

Genji stumbled into the house as the clock struck three in the morning, Winston slung on his back. The two spoke quietly the entire way back about odds and ends. Now, the gorilla lay slung over him, sleeping soundly as he transformed back into just regular old Genji.

The moment his suit was off, his body ached more. The weight of Winson leaned heavily on him. “Dude,” He mumbled as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. “I got to put you down, man. You’re too much.”

A light snoring was all that he could hear. He smiled a little as he maneuvered Winston’s weight onto one shoulder so he could reach in his pockets and dig out his keys. His eyes drooped. As he attempted to place the key inside the lock.

The door jingled open and Hanzo stepped into the bright living space. He blinked a few times as he stepped in.

Hanzo sat in the middle of the living room, elegantly draped over the couch in his dark silk robe. His hair was down, freshly washed. He sat up as Genji walked in, his eyes downcast. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you back tonight.”

Genji slipped into his room. He laid Winston on the bed and covered him up. His mind pulled him to the bed….he wanted to just lay down and let the darkness encase him. 

“Genji?” Hanzo called out to him. 

He turned and shuffled back out, pulling his shoes off and dropping them in the hall. He was too tired to pick up after himself. His feet dragged as he moved to the couch and dropped down. “What are you still doing up, brother?” He wormed his arms around Hanzo’s middle and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder.

“I could not sleep,” He rested his cheek against Genji’s forehead. “It has been a long night is all.”

A loud ping sounded. Genji opened his tired eyes, “What is that?”

“Just my phone,: Hanzo mumbled.

“Who is texting you this late at night?” Genji whined. “Gimme that, I’ll tell them off. You need your beauty sleep.”

Hanzo twisted away from his groping hand. Hanzo laughed and pushed his hand into Genji’s face. “Enough! Genji, stop!”

Genji followed his brother’s motion. He laughed and made a half-hearted attempt to snatch the phone away. It dinged again. “Oh my god. Hanzo doesn’t want me to see who is texting him at inappropriate hours.” he giggled a little and made a second pass. “Are you sexting?”

“Shut up!” Hanzo’s ears turned a brilliant shade of pink. “Tell me how your date went.”

“Don’t you deflect on me, Hanzo Shimada. I know all your secrets now,” Genji’s smirk turned into a wicked grin. “Oooh, is it the Handy Man?”

A third ding sounded. “Maybe,” Hanzo mumbled.

Genji snorted with laughter and made another grab for the phone as Hanzo twisted off the arm of the sofa in an attempt to evade. “Come on! Let me see. You have to have a picture of your boyfriend.”

“Do not be absurd, he is not my boyfriend. Do you happen to have any pictures of yours? He pushed against Genji hard and laughed as he slid to the floor. 

Genji frowned and moved to the floor next to him. “I told you, it wasn’t a date. I just was going out with a friend.”

“Did he pay for everything? If he did, it was a date.”

“He’s an omnic,” Genji sighed out. He ran his hand through his thick hair. The bruise on his back flared with pain. He did his best to ignore it. 

“Like that has ever stopped you before,” Hanzo smiled. He let his back rest against the foot of the sofa as he reached out and ruffled Genji’s hair. “You never spend that much time preening if it wasn’t a date.”

Genji gave Hanzo a light shove. “Ask your own boyfriend out on a date and maybe I will do the same. Look, you obviously like the guy, you gave him a stupid nickname and won’t shut up about him.”

“Am I really that obvious?” Hanzo sighed.

“To the rest of the world? No way. But I can read you, Hanzo. I know you better than you know yourself. Ask the guy out. Get laid.”

Hanzo looked down at his phone and twisted it around, through his fingers. “What if I were to tell you that I already have asked this man out. That we went out earlier this week. We spent the day together.”

Genji frowned slightly and looked at his brother. The phone dinged again and again. “Did you get laid?”

“Good god, Genji. Do not be so crass. I did not such thing,” His cheeks flushed a brilliant cherry red that radiated down to the dark purple bruises on Hanzo’s neck. 

Genji blinked a few more times, his mind worked slowly as he examined the spots all over the sides of Hanzo’s neck. Small, bite-sized marks that dipped low on his Adam’s apple and up again, to just below his ears. Genji’s eyebrows raised to the ceiling as it the truth slowly built in his mind. “Are those hickeys?” 

Hanzo covered his neck with one hand. “I-”

“Dude. Hanzo.” Genji scrambled back. “I don’t want any more details. You know what, I’m good with not thinking about my brother boning some other dude.”

The phone dinged again. Both glanced down at the phone. “He is asking me out again,” Hanzo mumbled out. “On Saturday. He wishes to take me out on Saturday.”

“You told him yes, didn’t you?”

Hanzo’s large shoulders sagged. “I have the store to run tomorrow. Plus, Saturday is the busiest day of the week.”

“No!” Genji lept to his feet. “Hanzo Shimada, I am making a decree. You have to go out. I have never seen you as much as flirt with someone, and yet here you are, admitting that not only did you flirt with a man, you sucked face with him too. Go out. Get laid,”

He laughed harder as a pillow whopped him on the side of the face. “Do not be crass!” Hanzo scolded. “It if makes you happy, I will go out with him.”

Hanzo laughed louder as Genji began to chant behind him as he texted the man back. “Look, go to bed. You look exhausted.” He smiled up at his brother. “You look like someone kicked your ass.”

Genji shrugged as he moved around the sofa and back to his room. “Just a long night. I may have tried to stop the forces of evil tonight and lost horribly, not that you care.”

“Good night, Genji.”

“See, I knew it. You don’t care. I could have completely destroyed as I fought for love and justice tonight, you know.”

“Good night, Genji”

“G’night, Hanzo. Don’t stay up sexing all night. It’s gross.”

Hanzo gave a final wave. “Good night, Genji.”


	6. Shared Feelings: Genji's misadventures

Genji leaned over the beautiful new countertop and splayed his arms splayed wide. His chin rested against the cool glass as he watched his brother fumble with different things in the shop. For once, it seemed as if their roles had been reversed. Genji, the cool collected brother, responsibly staying in the shop to take care of the family business while Hanzo was manic and evading all his responsibilities. He took childish glee in reminding his brother of that fact at every turn. 

It had been like that all morning: Hanzo stalking back and forth within the shop, fidgeting with everything within his reach. He said it was to make the displays look better. That some things needed to be rotated around as to not get lost behind other things. He spent the morning reiterating how he had managed to find several stores that were closing down and bought out their entire stock as if he had not told this to Genji a thousand times before.

There was something oddly endearing about the way Hanzo would stop every time he caught his reflection in some shiny surface and twiddled with his hair, moving his bangs back and twisting them around his fingers, the frown deepening on his face every time he found a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his clothes. A smile played over his face. He could not remember the last time Hanzo had been on a date. Hell, he could not remember a time that Hanzo had friends.

“Brother,” Genji broke the silence of the empty shop and sat up, propping his chin on his palm and gave a sly smile. “I’ve told you this before, if you hate your hair, just chop it off.”

Hanzo’s scowl turned on Genji, “I don’t hate my hair,” he grumbled out.

“Bull crap,” Genji scoffed. “You are always pulling at it and tugging it. You aren’t working in an office or warehouse or anywhere that requires you looking like an ass, Hanzo. You are your own boss. Fuck what people think.”

The frown on Hanzo’s face deepened, his hand cautiously moved to the back of his head again.. “My hair does not need altering, Genji.” He snapped out before dropping his hand and went back to his pacing of the storefront. “You are certain you can handle the responsibility of-”

“Holy fuck, Hanzo,” Genji sighed and dropped back down on the counter with all the drama he could muster. “I am watching the shop for a day. Singular. I am going to stand right here. This exact spot behind the counter, and sell things to the friendly people that come in looking for antiques. I am going to be friendly and helpful to everyone and everything that comes through that door. Everything will be just fine while you go on your date.”

Hanzo’s ears went pink at that word. “Genji…”

“I have a pair of clippers just upstairs, you know it would take five minutes. A quick buzz and you would be hip and cool and not a loser-”

“Genji!”

“You know, just,” He made a few movements with his hand. “Buzz, buzz, done. Cool new Hanzo, ready for his sexy date with the handyman.”

“Genji!” Hanzo shouted louder. Hanzo turned away, trying to hide the redness that spread to his cheeks and neck. “Leave my hair alone!”

Genji opened his mouth to tease his brother again but stopped the second the bell over the door jangled. Both stood up straight and looked at the door with wide eyes as two girls stepped inside. 

Hanzo sulked back over to the counter and rearranged the display of necklaces on the counter. “Just leave my appearance alone. It is not that troubling.”

Genji smiled and ruffled his hair, earning another death glare. “I’m not saying you are ugly. Calling you ugly would be like calling me ugly, and we both know I’m an eleven. It’s just right now, you are like...a six-and-a-half.”

“Six?”

“And-a-half,” Genji corrected. “You are just….really starting to look like Otousan.” He sighed. “Not that looking like him is bad, it is just-” He jumped as a high pitched squeal reverberated through the tiny shop.

“Look at this!” One of the two girls was still shrieking like a terrible banshee before taking a long drink from her overpriced coffee as she lifted up a bauble from the table. Both girls giggled as they moved through the rows of things. 

Hanzo moved back to the counter quietly, his back to Genji. He reached over and turned on the old television, filling the space with the monotonous tones of a sportscaster. Genji let out a puff of air and sunk away. Noise was always his go-to distraction when Hanzo did not want to continue a conversation.

“How do you even know what our father looked like, Genji?” He mumbled.

“I still have pictures of us back then,” He mumbled out, wringing his hands together. “I didn’t mean to...upset you. I just…” He trailed away, letting the soulful crooning of some old rock ballad fill the void between them.

“I need to go, Genji, can I trust that you will take care of things here?” Hanzo’s voice was low as he looked over at the girls inside his shop.

“Of course, brother,” He whispered back. “Look, if I get in a jam, I’ll call you. I will give you a call if anything comes up.”

Hanzo let out a deep, low sigh. He looked up at the television as it turned back to the news, “That sound reasonable. I will have my phone on.” He reached over and turned up the volume

“In local news,” the reporter’s voice broke in, releasing again that uncomfortable silence that fell between the brothers. “Police are still investigating the break-in that occurred last night at the Lacroix Manor Museum. Early this morning, police were called out to the 700 block-”

“Please call only if there is something you are unable to handle,” Hanzo whispered in Japanese, his eyes moving to the young patrons that continued wandered his shop. “I do not want a check in every fifteen minutes.”

Genji laughed. He reached out and took his brother’s hand, easily slipping back into their native tongue. There was comfort in speaking this way, a familiarity in knowing they could speak freely and away from listening ears.“I do solemnly swear that I will only call if there is something I cannot handle. Zenyatta said he would come by and keep me company so you don’t have to worry about masked men showing up and robbing us blind.”

Hanzo let out another loud sigh. “I will be back late. Do I need to leave you money for dinner?”

“Oh my god, Hanzo. I am not a kid. I can get my own dinner,” Genji slipped back into English and turned down the television as the screen panned over a crowd of people dressed in maroon and gold colors and holding up signs for the Bloomington Bulldogs. “Cocaine and cigarettes would be considered a nutritious meal, right brother?”

The girls both giggled at the comment and looked over at the brothers, whispering to each other behind their expensive coffee. Genji gave them a wink before turning back to his brother’s exasperated look. “Do I actually get to meet your handyman yet, or does he remain a mystery?”

“I know you well enough. I do happen to like his company and I am not ready for you to scare him off yet,” Hanzo smirked and pulled the hairband out and fiddled with his hair before he frowned. Genji had been right, it was getting far too long. He needed to find a decent stylist in this city. 

Genji just smirked. He scowled.

“You don’t trust me around your beau, brother?” Genji snickered. 

“You are a terrible flirt, Genji.”

“I resent that. I am a wonderful flirt.”

“You will flirt with my handyman before I get a chance to go on a proper date with him, and it will end up with me behind that counter, entertaining an omnic monk, and you off on a mysterious date.”

“Mysterious?” He smiled and leaned forward. “So he hasn’t told you what you are doing yet?”

“All I was told was to dress comfortably,” Hanzo stated cooly, tightly tying his hair in a knot at the back of his head. Genji let out a snort as he looked Hanzo over. Comfort was not at all in the equation when Hanzo dressed that morning, especially after Hanzo burst into his room at seven and demanded some of Genji’s nicer things. 

Tight, dark maroon jeans fit over his slim hips in a way that screamed for attention. He had been surprised to see his brother owned any jeans that were not black. The tightness of them was the most shocking though. Hanzo always dressed for profession and mobility. He was the type of man to wear pressed dress slacks to work in a shitty antique store. These jeans had to be a relic from his high school days. It was a wonder he even still fit in them, though Genji briefly wondered if his brother could even sit properly in jeans that tight. He had to admit though, his brother’s better assets were on display for once.

A tight, black vintage style t-shirt was stretched over his broad chest and barely covered his arms. Hanzo tugged at the ends of the shirt, trying in vain to get it to cover more of his midsection. Genji selected it for the sole reason it showed off his well-defined arms. 

Hanzo got the shirt for his birthday, a self-birthday gift, he called it as he drunkenly clicked on the website and added it to his cart. They had started drinking together early in the afternoon. It was one of the few times Hanzo left his chill at the door. Hanzo was nineteen now. An adult. Neither of them could remember much more of the night. It wasn’t until a week later he even recognized he bought the thing. 

That night was also the night Hanzo bought them both plane tickets to Japan...

The boots were what really finished off the look, in Genji’s humble opinion. Hanzo said he wanted to appear collected and representable. Genji told him to look like a badass bitch. The shoes were all Genji, shiny faux-leather, Doc Marten knockoffs that cost a fraction of the price in rich black. Even in the low light of the shop, they shined beautifully.

Genji had wanted to do Hanzo’s eyes. He wanted so badly to give his brother those severe, dark cat eyes that would drive any man (and plenty of women as well) absolutely wild with desire. Hanzo stayed firm on that subject, stating his eyes were just fine. Like his hair. It was fine. 

Genji wanted so badly to know what the handyman had planned for their day. He said to not eat a large breakfast, so Hanzo had a light meal of rice and salmon. He told Hanzo to dress comfortably, so Hanzo wore something that was the exact opposite of that, but damned if he did not look hot. He told Hanzo not to ask questions, that it was a surprise, which sent Hanzo’s anxiety through the roof to the point where Genji knew he had not slept at all the previous night. But Genji knew not to ask those questions now. Hanzo was already a mess of a person, even if his cool exterior showed differently. Most importantly, he wanted to know his fucking name.

“When are you getting picked up?” Genji asked instead. He moved to Hanzo and began to center his hair, making sure not a strand was out of place. Lord forbid Hanzo looked disheveled in any way.

“He is late. He said he would be here at ten,” Hanzo pulled out his phone and frowned, letting his brother adjust him. 

Genji twisted and looked down at Hanzo’s screen. 9:52. “Hanzo, chill man, He’s got eight minutes to get here. Hell, I am sure it was more of a rough estimate of time. Most people don’t live their lives on exact time.” He gave the top of Hanzo’s head a quick pat and decided against making the joke about finding another gray hair. Hanzo’s poor heart couldn’t take it.

Hanzo’s frown deepened. Genji could see the cogs spinning out of control in that head of his. He sighed and turned up the volume on the ancient television. The best course of action in times like this was to change the subject completely. “That’s crazy, isn’t it? Two people breaking into an art museum like that?”

“What?” Hanzo was ripped out of whatever headspace he had constructed for himself. Genji pointed to the tv. Police tape still surrounded the entrance to the museum as the local news filtered away. “Happened two days ago and they are still all over that break-in. It’s just weird, you know?”

“What was stolen?” Hanzo mumbled out, his brain was still obviously on the man and not on the news. “I have not paid enough attention to follow that story.”

Genji shrugged, “I haven’t really been following it either, just interesting, you know? Why an art museum when there is like, a jewelry store right there. All I heard was that it was a team that broke in and they took something.”

“You haven’t been paying attention?” One of the girls with the overpriced coffee gasped as she approached the counter. Her partner was off, looking at the cheap costume jewelry on display in the front window. “You need to read this blog, it’s a local blog, but seriously,” She took a long drink of her coffee before continuing. “Seriously, this girl is a genius. She is getting to the bottom of everything, it is amazing.” She smiled. “The police reported that there were two of them at the museum that night, but she thinks that it was a coincidence. These two are not working together. They stole two very different things. The blogger’s source says that the first thing taken was a painting. The fucker carefully cut the painting out of the frame and left that. The other thing that was taken was some old lady’s jewels, and that is why the police are still present because some rich old broad is nagging them to death.”

Hanzo leaned in, “A blogger? Your insight comes from some girl with a web page?”

“That is why she is so good! No one knows who she is. She says it isn’t safe to be that open about these things and she could make the wrong kind of people angry, but look,” The girl nodded emphatically before pulling out her phone and shoving it into Hanzo’s face. The blog was, for a lack of better words, very pink. 

His first instinct was to dismiss the customer’s claims of it being a reliable source. Some pink blog with a rabbit motif was childish. It was not a news outlet. 

That was until he started to scroll. A photo. A single, dark photo of a barely lit street. Two figures faced off. The silhouette of the Sentai Warrior and a dark-clad figure. Hanzo felt his blood run cold. 

“Isn’t that amazing?” The girl snatched the phone back and presented it to Genji. “She claims she hacked a local traffic camera and found that picture. The police won’t admit the Sentai Warrior is involved at all, but this blogger is right on the pulse of the action. She says this is one of the thieves. The one that stole the jewels.”

“Why would she say that?” Genji mumbled out, his voice more distant than he was intending. He looked back to the girl. “Does she think the Sentai Warrior is the other thief?”

The girl let out an obnoxious bark of laughter. “The Sentai Warrior? No! Look at them. This was a faceoff. The traffic camera takes a snapshot every couple of seconds, so all she got was a brief outline, but it looks like the thief kicked the Sentai Warrior’s ass. This pic of them standing off then, Boom!” She scrolled to the next picture. One of the Sentai Warrior sitting on the curb, an indistinguishable furry blob next to him. “The Thief is gone. The Sentai is alone and seated. Something happened there. Something too fast for cameras to pick up.” 

“Why does she think this thief stole the jewels?” Hanzo asked, a little more forcibly than was needed. 

The girl blinked. “Well, the other item stolen was a painting. He doesn’t have anyplace on him that could carry a painting, you know? You would have to roll up a painting to not damage it. Transport it in some kind of….tube, like when you order posters online, you get a tube so they aren’t bent. So...he had to have taken the jewels.”

“This blog, what is it called?” Hanzo demanded.

“Cindy, shut up,” The other girl huffed as she moved over, slamming three cheap necklaces on the counter. “No one cares.” She looked at Genji with a deep scowl, “Well, how much do I owe?”

Genji clenched his teeth together tight as he punched in the numbers just a little too hard. Cindy, the girl with the information, moved away, her cheeks red and eyes now downcast as she slipped her phone into her bright pink bag. This girl had answers. Well, maybe not answers, but a lead to the answers. Something different. Something he could use without Winston’s help.

“Seriously,” The girl snapped her gum as she took the bag from Genji. “Drop it. I have to hear one more word about that damn conspiracy theory blog again, I will scream.” She turned and stormed out, grabbing her friend’s arm in the process and leading her out to the street. 

Genji frowned, “Brother, would it be polite to call that girl a bitch?”

“It is never polite to ever call anyone such a rude name, Genji,” Hanzo was looking at his phone again. “Even if they are a bitch.” His words trailed away as the sound of engine popped from the back alley. 

Genji felt his smile widen. “Aww, Hanzo, your knight in a shining pickup here.” He reached across the counter and poked his brother’s nose. “Text me updates. I want to know everything.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes as he picked up his side bag, “I am not texting you updates, Genji. Should you need it, there is a debit card upstairs. Only take out what is needed if the til get low. Do not close down before five. And-

 

“You know what, no. Don’t text me updates. I don’t need to know when you decide to finally pop your cherry. Just keep me up to date if it goes bad, like he takes you to a football game. Or fishing. If you will hate it, text me.” He waved emphatically as his brother disappeared out the back before he turned his attention back to the television.

He pulled out his phone and stared at the blank screen. On the one hand, he wanted to be a good brother and take care of the store and prove to Hanzo he could be a responsible, respectable member of the community. On the other hand, he did need to tell Winston about the blog. He should be looking into that mysterious thief and that masked vigilante. 

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he slid the screen open and tapped Zenyatta’s icon. The vigilante and thief could wait. He was stuck here for the day and lord forbid they close down on the weekend when they got the best foot traffic in. If today was going to be dull, he decided, there might as well have some good company. 

_________________

Hanzo leaned his arm against the window as he tried his best to both look relaxed and cool at the same time. Jesse had the radio on loud, blaring out some old country song that amazingly both drowned out the uncomfortable silence that persisted as well as reinforced the divide between them. 

He looked over to Jesse again, taking in the casual look of the other man. He looked completely at ease with a red and white button-down shirt that was rolled to his elbows, showing off his toned forearms. When Jesse McCree told him to dress comfortable, he was not kidding. The faded blue jeans that were worn at the knees hung loosely off his hips despite the bent, making him have to slyly tug them up every time he shifted in the driver’s seat.

The wind whipped through Jesse’s mop of brown hair from the open window. A cigarette hung loosely in his free hand as he blew smoke outside. Hanzo was fixated on those lips, watching as his tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips as he flicked ash outside the car.

Hanzo bit his lower lip and looked out the window, watching the city pass them by as Jesse merged onto the highway. He could not relax. Even now, he could feel the tension mounting on his back, threatening to spasm. His foot tapped repeatedly against the floor of the truck as his gaze kept jumping, first to the window, then back to Jesse. He could not take it any longer. The silence was deafening. He swallowed the lump he did not know that formed in his throat. “So where are you taking me?” 

“Fuck,” Jesse ran a hand through the mop of brown hair on his head before he pulled the cigarette from his lips and blew a plume of smoke out the window. “I know I promised you a fun day, and I’ll get that to ya but,” He shook his head and leaned his elbow against the door as he frowned deeply. His thumb rolled along his temple as his eyebrows knitted together.

Hanzo looked over. He knew that look well. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

“It’s…” He looked out the window. “It’s my sister. My mom...my stepmom...she called me this morning saying my sister needs a ride. Something about her school and that I’m the only one around with a car.”

“I remember you said something before about a sister. You haven't spoke of her much though,” He smiled a little and shifted forward.

Jesse tossed the empty butt of his cigarette out the window and rolled it up, shutting out the chill of the fall day. “Yep, little sister. I was adopted, see?” He smiled and Hanzo felt his heart flutter. “Her mama took me in when I was just a runt of a thing.”

Hanzo smiled as he sat back in the passenger seat, feeling more at ease as he listened to Jesse talk about his little sister. He reached up to curl the long, brown tresses around his fingers while the other drove them further and further out of the city until the houses seemed to be spaced out further and further and grow larger and larger in size. 

“So you grew up in the suburbs?” Hanzo smiled and leaned on his elbow, still facing the sweet, flustered cowboy. 

“Naw,” Jesse relaxed a fraction before he smiled over at him before he turned his attention back to the road. “You ain’t interested in my sad-sap tale.”

“Oh, but I am,” Hanzo cooed. “How did Jesse McCree become Jesse McCree?”

Mmm,” Jesse sucked in his cheeks, making a display as he tilted his head side to side. “If I agree to divulge my deep dark past to you, I also would like to know how Hanzo…. Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is became Hanzo Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is.”

Hanzo let out a bark of laughter and curled up in his seat a little. “You don’t know my last name?”

“Nope.” Jesse’s ears went red, but he smiled broader. “Couldn’t say I cared less, as long as you look at me with those pretty eyes.”

“Go on. Tell me your whole, sordid past.”

Jesse gave a dramatic sigh, “There is no going back from this. I’m cursed, you should know. Once you know who I really am, you are tied to me forever.”

Hanzo laughed. “Stop delaying!”

“Hey, I ain’t dawdling,” Jesse smiled. “CliffsNotes version: Mama was a teen when she had me, she ran off and left me with my abuelita. Abuelita took care of me for a little while then life got fucked up again and I ended up in the system. When I was ten, I was taken in by a really nice couple. They were my dads. When I was twelve they got the rights to adopt me. They took in other kids too at the time that were like me and strays. When I was a senior in high school, both my dads died in an accident and Ana took me in.” The smile slowly faded from Jesse’s face as he told his whole tale, the grip on the steering wheel tightening as his knuckles went white.

“Ana has been great,” Jesse said after a pause. “She didn’t need to take me in. I was seventeen and there were talks after my dad’s funeral about just declaring me an adult and letting me go. Seriously, at their fucking funeral, they were trying to tell me where I was going and I was just sitting there trying to cope with the idea that I lost my family...But Ana wouldn’t allow that. She said I was Jack and Gabe’s kid and she wasn’t just going to turn me away. She made me family and she didn’t have to do that.”

The softness returned to his eyes. He turned down a side street, into a neighborhood of cookie cutter houses, all different dull shades of gray and brown. “Her daughter, Fareeha, she is my sister. We ain’t blood but, I swore I would kick anybody’s ass that treated her wrong. If that ain’t what a brother does, I don’t know what is.”

Hanzo gave a short nod, “My parents died in a car accident when I was young. My brother and I were then adopted by our uncle, it was not a favorable place for us. He did not like children. We were split after that,”

“Whoa,” Jesse looked over. “Foster system split you?”

Hanzo gave a shrug. “My parents put things in place to make sure that didn’t happen but...their wishes were not met. It took me years to get my brother back.”

Jesse reached a hand over to place it on Hanzo’s thigh. 

He leaned into the hand, curling his fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, “Tell me a little bit about your sister before we get there.”

“Reeha just started college, like your brother. Smart as a whip too. You’ll like her.” He leaned back against the driver’s seat and rolled his shoulders. “And, if ya could, just don’t mention the whole cigarette thing. Ma thinks that I quit years ago.”

Hanzo smiled. “So instead of a date, we are going to playing taxi for your little sister?”

A red flush crept over Jesse’s cheeks as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah.”

Hanzo turned in his seat and watched Jesse, tilting his head to the side. “So where are we taking her?”

“Dun know. Mama didn’t say where she needed to go, just that this was last minute and she and her husband had work and couldn’t take her.”

Hanzo bit his lower lip and smiled. He reached over and brushed a stray lock of brown hair out of his eyes and behind his ear. “How long do we have until we reach your mother’s house? I want to know how long I get you to myself.” 

________

Genji perked up every time he heard that little bell go off over the door. It was three times already since Hanzo left, and all three of them were not Zenyatta. Two were looking for the noodle shop next door. The third was an older couple. He sighed and leaned further into the counter and swiped along through various social media. Nothing apparently was happening today, past Hana and Lucio’s selfies at the stadium, all decked out in team colors. It was dull. 

He checked to make sure his text to Winston had gone through. He mentioned the blog to his companion, telling him the details on what it looked like and some of the key phrasing he remembered. It was a long shot to track down the blog, but it was better than the nothing they currently had.

Zenyatta had sent a message that he would be on his way over when it was convenient. After a half hour of waiting, Genji was now convinced that meant he did not want to be sitting in this musty old shop. Hell, Genji did not want to be sitting in this musty old shop, but work meant doing things you hate for other people. His eyes drifted to the elderly couple in the shop. 

They were cute, holding hands as they wandered the aisles. They took their time, looking at every little trinket the store had and pointing out all the amazing exotic artifacts. Genji didn’t have the heart to tell them the exotic artifacts they enjoyed were truly made in India, but started life in an upscale home decor chain store and not some temple in Mumbai.

He looked over as the bell over the door jingled. Zenyatta stepped in cautiously, looking around. “Greetings!” Genji smiled and moved over.

“Genji!” Zenyatta tilted his head to the side as he moved inside the shop. “I was not sure if this was the correct place. Did you know the sign above your door reads ‘Noodle Shop’?”

He nodded and led Zenyatta to the back counter. “Yeah, I know. My brother has tried to talk to the landlord but he said he was not willing to pay to change the sign. He is kind of an ass.”

“I apologize for my lateness. I was held up at the temple and was distracted on my way here,” Zenyatta looked strange again. Genji felt so comfortable, seeing him in his traditional yellow tinted kasaya looked so natural on the monk. But here he was, adorably cute in his civilian clothes and brown, beanie hat. Zenyatta held a small brown box out for Genji. “Here. A peace offering.”

Genji smiled and took the box. “Peace offering? What for?” He moved behind his counter and set the gift down. 

Slowly, Zenyatta shed his light fall coat and hung it neatly up on the coat hanger by the counter. “For my lateness without explanation.”

Genji opened the box and the smell of fresh pastry invaded his senses. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply at the three pleasantly plump doughnuts that were nestled deep in the box. They were each, perfectly glazed over with chocolate. His mouth watered. 

“Oh my goodness, Earl! Look at his shirt, isn’t that darling?” The woman gasped and moved over to Zenyatta. “It’s that cute little superhero, Earl!”

Genji watched as the woman and Zenyatta chatted about his t-shirt. It hung loosely on his lithe frame and draped over his shoulder. Zenyatta laughed cheerily as he held the edges of his shirt down, allowing the couple to see the full extent of the design all the while asking him questions about where he purchased it. He was sweet to them, not that Genji could have thought any different. Zenyatta was always kind to everyone he met.

“I didn’t know you read comics,” Genji stated as he took the first doughnut out of the box. “Though that shouldn’t surprise me. Which hero are you wearing? Let me guess, ironman?...no, too obvious…” he tapped his finger against his chin in a dramatic fashion and took his first bite. He nearly moaned as the fluffy baked good melted in his mouth in a wave of sugar. He closed his eyes and savored the slight crunch that came from the deep frying process. It was nothing but sugar and fat and empty carbs. But it was good for his soul.

“I found this the other day while in the mall,” Zenyatta stated, his voice closer to him. Genji absently wondered how long he had been lost in the delirium of a well-fried doughnut as he took another bite and forced himself to look at his companion. “I found this charming little kiosk that was selling this and other things. I have a picture.”

Genji took another large bite as he let his eyes trail over his slim frame as the omnic began to search for his phone. The shirt in question appeared to be at least three sizes too large for the omnic’s lithe frame as it draped over his shoulder and exposed the chrome shoulder joint. The sleeves stopped just short of his elbows. It was cute, seeing his friend in civilian clothes. Genji leaned over the counter to see if he could glance a view of the image on it and choked on his next bite of doughnut.

Emblazoned on the front of Zenyatta’s shirt was an artistic rendition of the Sentai Warrior as an animated character, striking a brilliant kicking pose complete with action lines. It was reminiscent of the old fighter shows he spent his afternoons watching when he left school. The Sentai Warrior stood proudly, finger pointing out to the distance while a word bubble over his head proudly exclaimed in Japanese hiragana ‘Chantama!’ as if it were a warrior phrase.

Tears prickled at the edge of his vision as Genji beat against his chest, trying to get the stray piece of pastry to go down the correct tube. He struggled for a breath as Zenyatta moved around, placing two strong hands on either of his shoulders. He could hear the monk speaking. He could place that words were being said as he was directed to turn towards Zenyatta. 

His vision was tunneled. His eyes focused on that damned shirt with the Sentai Warrior screaming out proudly ‘Testicles!’ in Japanese. There was no way, zero way the omnic monk in his store did not know what his shirt said. There was zero way the manufacturer of that shirt had any idea what was said. It looked like cool Japanese. The Sentai Warrior was Japanese. There was no way.

The world began to tunnel, turning black and red and blurred around the edges. His lungs burned and throat clenched. 

A hand came down hard on his back. Hard. He gave a deep, guttural gasp for air as he felt the piece of food lodged in his throat relent and he began to cough deeply, causing his lunch to ache and burn with every forceful pass of air.

But he could breathe.

“Earl, that is the most adorable shirt,” The woman’s exclamation drew him back to the store. He could feel the earth planted firmly below. The room stopped swaying and the counter came back into focus. A glass was pushed into his hand.

“Drink. Slow.” It was the calm voice of Zenyatta. Genji slowly raised the cup to his numb lips and let a few drops pass before he felt his head clear. He was on the floor, seated. Zenyatta was crouched next to him, both hands firmly pressed against his shoulders, keeping him steady and still.

He could hear the couple continue to speak as the bell over the door jingled again then was silent. The ringing in his ears slowed. He took a deep, shaking breath. “M'fine,” He mumbled out.

“Do you require medical assistance?”

He slowly shook his head. He brought his hand up and slowly wiped it across his mouth, suddenly self-conscious about his face. His cheeks were clammy and cool. He was probably red in the face and blotchy at this point. “M'fine,” He repeated, more confident this time that he was not going to pass out. 

Genji slowly brought his arms up and covered his whole face, bringing his knees to his chest as well. Embarrassment set in as the world righted itself. He had choked on a fucking doughnut. Possibly puked it out. In front of customers. And Zenyatta. Zenyatta witnessed him choking and nearly dying on a fried pastry.

The firm grip on his shoulders remained. He took another shaking breath. “Did I pass out?” He asked.

“No,” Zenyatta stated calmly, way more calmly than he felt. “I saw you starting to choke and moved around the counter. You are sitting on the floor now. There is a glass of water next to you on the left.

There was water? He remembered taking a drink, but the rest was a blur. “The customers…”

“They left. I doubt they saw anything. The woman was so wrapped up in talking to her husband and I watched as he turned off his hearing aid.”

Genji snorted out a laugh and slowly dropped his arms. He leaned his head against the back counter and took another deep, shaking breath.

“It is good to know you enjoyed the treat I brought in, but next time I would recommend chewing. I rather like you alive and well and not dying on the floor.” Zenyatta’s hands moved away and Genji felt a pang ripple through him at their loss.

“What can I say, I’ve never been terribly easy.”

“Next time I come, I will be sure to bring a gift that is more appropriate; like applesauce or Jello.”

Genji groaned and closed his eyes, a fresh wave of embarrassment rolling over him and heating his face. “See, that’s my luck. I think I am doing awesome, I can be as cool as a cucumber then Bang! Choking to death on the floor of my own family shop.”

“That was a joke,” Zenyatta punctuated. “I did not mean to insult you or infer that you were not capable of taking care of yourself. If it helps-”

Genji reached out and grabbed his arms tight. “It helps,” He sighed. “Just...you being here helps.” His eyes wandered back to the shirt and he started to giggle. A full, snorting giggle that made his shoulders quake and stomach heave until it threatened to explode within him. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he grasps handfuls of that awful shirt and looked at it. He looked at the Sentai Warrior pointed straight at him and screaming ‘testicles’. To the ridiculousness of it all. “Seriously though, where did you get that shirt. I think I need it.”  
___________

The back seat of Jesse’s pickup was more cramped than he initially thought. He sat back in the smaller seats and listened to the ramblings of the young girl in the front seat. Jesse had asked if Hanzo wouldn’t mind sitting in the back, as he wanted to have a conversation with her. His tone was not unfamiliar to Hanzo. He had used a similar tone many times when wanting to talk to his own brother.

Fareeha let out a long sigh as the cookie cutter neighborhood slid out of view. “Jess, you have no idea how grateful I am.”

“I have an idea, Reeha,” He stated. “Wanna tell me why Mom called me to come get you and chauffeur you around?” 

“She and Reinhardt planned a weekend away to some bed and breakfast upstate. They left at like, five this morning. It’s kind of gross how cute they are together.”

“Not what I’m talking about, Reeha,” Jesse gave her a sideways glance. “Where’s your car?”

The girl let out a loud groan and slipped further into her seat, covering her face. “Jess-”

“Reeha!”

“I may have gotten into a very minor, tiny car accident?” She gave a tiny, sheepish smile as she shrugged her shoulders. “And I may have totally dumped the engine.”

“Fareeha!” Jesse slammed on the brakes and turned to look at her, ignoring the blare of a horn from behind them. Hanzo shrunk further into his seat. “Are you kidding me? You totaled your car? Were you hurt? What happened?!”

“I told you,” She groaned and turned away. “Minor car accident. I was driving and a guy came out of nowhere and t-boned me.”

“T-boned?!” Jesse’s voice went up an octave. He ran a hand down his face before he started to drive again. “Why didn’t you or Mom call me?”

“It was minor! I wasn’t hurt and Reinhardt was right there. Brigette is helping me fix it. It is no big deal, Jess.” She turned back on him. “Seriously. Nothing happened. It was a car accident. Car accidents happen.”

Jesse slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Shit Reeha, a car accident? Being t-boned isn’t some minor thing.” 

Hanzo wanted to fall under the floorboards of the truck and let the wheels finish him off. He wanted to melt through the metal frame of the truck and disappear forever. Anything would be better than this. Better than being a bystander to a sibling argument. He had witnessed this kind of talk enough to know that it always ended with one side being hurt. He was used to the screaming and arguing and mayhem that came from trying to understand an idiotic younger sibling and the knowledge that they would never listen. He instead took out his phone and furiously typed out a text to Genji.

Jesse let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. “But you are fine?”

“Yeah. If I wasn’t I would have told you.”

“Really? You are really fine, Reeha?”

She let out a little laugh and punched his arm. “Mom refuses to let me borrow any car for now. She says I need to learn to ‘be more aware of my surroundings’, which is total bullshit.”

“Bullshit?” Jesse looked over. 

“It was night and he ran a stop sign. We were going maybe thirty miles an hour. It dinged my car door in so it wouldn’t open. My car is with Brigette, who was already planning on helping me get a new body on that car, you know. I just now have some insurance money to fix it up faster.” She pointed her finger at his face. “And you know I am responsible. You taught me how to drive.”

Jesse laughed and pointed the finger away from him. “Yeah yeah, you gotta point. So Mom and Rein had plans?” He switched the subjects abruptly. Hanzo looked up from his blank screen. He had been in the middle of reading through the trivia on one of his favorite movies. 

“Yeah,” Fareeha made a gagging motion. “Their anniversary. Not their marriage anniversary but one of the made up ones they go on all the time to celebrate all sorts of made up reasons to go to bed and breakfasts and be all gross.”

Jesse let out a chuckle. “Sounds like Rein. He would make up any reason to get to Mom to himself for a little while. Still super gross though.”

Fareeha laughed and stretched his arms over his head. “Still….thank you for taking me up north, big bro.” She smiled. 

“Mom was really vague on where we were going and what we were doing besides calling me this morning to lament about her only daughter needing to tell me to take her all the way north for some reason she didn’t have time to explain. So why are you going north?” Hanzo listened to the casual way that Jesse McCree dug for information. It was simple and brilliant. 

The girl tensed a little in her seat, but Jesse did not seem to notice, looking out the side mirror as he changed lanes to pass a car. “Science class,” She said. “Extra credit for documenting wildlife in...the wild.”

“Hmm,” Jesse nodded and thumped his fingers along the steering wheel. “Well, I was going to be tactful about this, but seeing how you interrupted all my plans-”

“Plans?” Feeha blinked a few times slowly, grimacing slightly, sinking further into her seat. 

“Oh yeah, did I forget to introduce you?” Jesse pointed back towards Hanzo. “Sorry about that, Darlin’, kinda got all caught up there.”

Fareeha turned in her seat, her dark eyes wide as she set eyes on the man in the backseat, her mouth agape. Suddenly, it dawned on them both, Jesse had not introduced them. He had asked Hanzo to climb into the back so he could talk to his sister. In turn, he stayed quiet in the back of the cab to let him speak in private to his sister. 

“Oh, um, I didn’t know,” She stumbled over her words, looking at Jesse’s smug face before turning back to Hanzo. “Hello, Fareeha Amari.” She extended her hand. “I am sorry I…” She trailed away

Hanzo smiled lightly and reached out, taking her hands. “Hi, I’m Plans, apparently.” 

____________

The news had continuous coverage of the museum break-in as if there was nothing else to report on in the city. Genji watched the old television in the shop and frowned deeply as the reports moved from speculation as to why the thieves targeted this particular museum and stole those particular items into pointing fingers at parties not involved.

“The problem is, museums are a dying commodity. Especially art museums like that one,” The pundit stated clearly, rapping his knuckles on the desk for emphasis. “People just do not care about museums until something like this happens.”

“What are you speculating, John?” The woman across from him adjusted her glasses and frowned deeply. “Are you suggesting that the museum was the one to orchestrate a massive break in?” 

“Rachel, when was the last time you even talked about going there? My guess, never. No one likes paying money to look at pictures. I wouldn’t hold it past the museum itself to-” The screen went black.

Genji frowned and looked down for the remote, only to find it in Zenyatta’s hand. “Such a cacophony of noise.” He tsked and looked to Genji. “It disrupts the soul. Or more importantly, it disrupts your heart.”

Genji flushed a little. “I was only half listening. Mostly I was thinking about how I almost choked to death on the floor of my own shop.”

“I would not let you die, Genji. I do know CPR. I am well aware of how to revive you when it happens again.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “Do you really think I am going to choke again?”

“At this point in our friendship, I have given you lemonade and tea. This is the first time I have attempted to feed you something more substantial than toast and you must admit, it did end rather...poorly.”

“It was your damn shirt that did it,” Genji rolled his eyes and moved around through the empty store. Since the incident with the doughnut, not a single other person had shown up. Genji felt an immediate sense of relief, just knowing that Zenyatta was here to break up the monotony of the noise. “Sometimes, I feel like this place is a prison.”

“Is that why you do not spend a lot of time working here?” Zenyatta’s hand moved gracefully as he twisted and rearranged some of the figures on one of the tables. 

“No, that is because I go to college and my brother values that more than me working here. Thank god for that. I would go nuts if I had to spend every day in here. Looking at this junk and wondering what happened to my youth.”

Zenyatta let out an audible gasp. His movements froze as his eye caught something. On his forehead, the array of lights began to slowly twinkle as he reached out slowly to a delicate figurine of a butterfly with colorful glass wings that was perched on a wire twig that bend down into a sturdy, marble base. He moved slowly, like he was out to capture a real butterfly and that a sudden, quick movement would frighten the fragile creature away. He cupped his hands around its base and slowly lifted it up, turning it in his graceful hands to see it from all angles.

The glass wings were an array of colors bleeding together of greens and blues and pinks. It was as if the creator was not too interested in realism, but the thought of a butterfly. With as much ease as he used to pick the figure up. He moved with the same speed to the window and let the light catch in the wing, sending out a rainbow of colors against the floor. “Marvelous,” He whispered.

Genji watched the scene, feeling his cheeks heat in the process. This felt intimate, like something he should not have been peering into, but Zenyatta continued, twisted the figure and watching the lights dance on the floor. He never took time to admire things in that way. How many times had he passed the same thing on the shelves and did not stop a moment to wonder how it would look in the sun?

Zenyatta gingerly placed it in a place by the window. He turned it several times until he was satisfied with how the sun looked on it and stepped back. “Do you not agree?”

“Hmm?” Genji sat up. “What was that?”

“It is a marvelous piece,” Zenyatta stated again. “Simple and ordinary on the surface, but when it is placed here…suddenly the beauty can be seen by all.” There was a slight jingle as Zenyatta reached into his pocket and removed his phone, swiping at the screen to unlock it.

Of course, it should not have shocked him that Zenyatta owned a cell phone. Everyone had one. It was almost a necessity in this day and age to have one. What did shock him was the tangle of charms that dangled off the end of the phone in a clamor of color? There was more charm than phone! He snorted a laughter again as Zenyatta lined himself up to take a few photos.

“You keep snickering at me. I am beginning to wonder what I have done to elicit this response,” Zenyatta knelt down to take a few more photographs. 

“It’s just unexpected,” Genji smiled. “You surprise me, that is all. I didn’t expect you to have...all this.”

“All what?” Zenyatta hummed.

“Instagram and phone charms and….this.” He smiled. He felt his heart flutter in his chest as he looked over at the many charms dangling from his friend’s phone. He reached out as the other neared and fingered along the different trinkets. A plush sushi for cleaning off fingerprints made him smile. Why would Zenyatta need this? His phone screen was not smudged a bit. “I figured you would have had to take a vow of poverty or something. Give up material possessions.” 

“You are not mistaken, my friend. Many Shambali have taken a lifestyle of quiet, simple living. I myself do not wish to draw attention to myself and would rather help out my fellow beings. But again, Shambali also live to the philosophy that we are living beings, complete with souls. We have needs, just like every other being.”

“You have needs?” Genji quipped, rolling the plastic figurine of a video game character, a yellow dog with a green dress, in his fingers.

“Oh yes, my friend. I have needs. Most of them revolve around my need to be surrounded by cute things. It is my one vice.” Zenyatta chuckled and let his fingers thread through the rest of his charms. “I have a box full of them at home. When I am distressed, I find myself near a vending machine and I am compelled to buy one.”

“So charms are your way of coping with stress?” Genji smiled. “Seems healthier than mine. I just drink until I pass out. You know, the healthy, human way of dealing with issues: bury them deeper inside until they physically manifest.” He meant it as a joke. Inside his head, he envisioned it having a great reaction. Zenyatta did not look pleased.

“They do calm the chaos within, but only temporarily. At the end of the day, you must still face your troubles.“ He turned his gaze back to Genji, and back to the long fingers threading through his many charms.

His fingers danced and settled on one, small and green. He smiled and leaned down, inspecting the tiny Sentai Warrior that dangled. “What troubles you so much that you felt the need to get this?”

Zenyatta hummed and pulled his phone away, taking the charm into his own hand. “It was a very troublesome day. You see, a friend of mine unsettled me deeply. We were supposed to go out the other night, but he had an emergency. He ran out on me, which was necessary, but then he never let me know when he arrived home safely.”

Genji felt his face flush slightly and he looked down, “Sounds like a pretty irresponsible friend.”

Zenyatta tilted his head to the other direction and continued, “I was worried. Especially after learning about that terrible break in. I was deeply concerned something had happened to my friend. But then he texted me and he did apologize. He also asked if we could go out again, even though he never asked if we won our game-which we did by the way. It was just too distressing. I had to buy the charm. And possibly a shirt.” 

Genji felt the smile split his face as he leaned forward on the counter once again, “Hey now, you can’t just blame all your bad habits on me.”

“Are you saying that it is a dishonest statement?” Zenyatta leaned down on the counter, setting his phone aside and locking his gaze with the other. “The need to purchase these things only happen when you are around. You are a terrible influence on me. You texting me this morning about coming over without any prior warning. Very distressing. On the way over here I even had to buy another poster just to make up for it. Genji, you are very, very stressful.”

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and snickered. “Do you think that you are any easier to be friends with? You also give me great stress.”

Zenyatta shot back, placing a hand on his chest in mock surprise and gasped. “Me? Stressful. My student, I am the epitome of tranquility. What could I have ever done to distress you?”

“You brought me doughnuts without any coffee, which caused me to choke. That is pretty traumatic.”

“I guess then that I must make amends,”Zenyatta moved over to the standing coat rack and grabbed his brown jacket. “And as I wish for us to be better friends so I shall go and get you a coffee.” 

Genji felt himself swell as he grabbed his own jacket and shucked it on. He pulled the beanie out of the pocket and slipped it on. “Yep,” He smiled at the omnic as he pulled the keys out of his pocket and headed for the door. Hanzo would kill him for going out, for locking up shop and slipping away for a few hours, but Hanzo was not here. And Zenyatta was. He twisted the key until he heard the lock click and turned back to his friend and felt himself smiling wider.

“Of course, Genji, you wish for us to be better friends as well, do you not?” Zenyatta linked his hands behind his back as he headed down the street. 

“Of course,” He nudged him with his shoulder. 

Zenyatta hummed again and looked up to the sky, “Then I think it is only fair that you make amends as well.”

Genji took a chance. He linked his arm into Zenyatta’s and leaned closer. “And how can I repair all the damage I have given you? I don’t think a coffee will have as much meaning to you.”

Zenyatta looked down at the boy on his arm and shrugged his shoulder. “I had not thought about that,” He let out a long sigh that made Genji laugh again. “I must admit, outside of my favorite coffee shop is this cute little kiosk that had a cute Sentai Warrior Parimachi-”

Genji couldn’t stop the wheezing laugh that escaped him as he clutched tighter to the arm he held. “Anything you want.”

________________

The car ride had not gotten any less uncomfortable as the drive north continued. Jesse had stopped once for gas, which allowed Hanzo to snag the front seat away from her. There was more comfort in sitting near the cowboy than in the back and watching the siblings bicker. He had spent far too many days in that situation.

He looked in the rearview mirror and spotted the younger woman, slouched down in her seat, her face illuminated with the soft blue light of her phone. His eyes traveled to his left and up the strong arm of Jesse to settle on the slightly downturned curve of his mouth. He chewed his lip and let his eyes flicker to the rearview mirror then back again to the road. “So,” He finally spoke, breaking the silence in the cab. “Just realized that I know all your classes this semester cause I helped you pick ‘em.”

Hanzo blinked and looked into the mirror, catching the girl behind him shrink further into her seat, her ears going red. “What are you talking about?” She swallowed and tried to look composed.

“You have an English class, two computer programing classes, and a Health class this semester,” Jesse stated. “I know this cause we talk all the time and you ain’t never talked about any science labs,” he smirked and looked back to her. “So what’s his name?”

Fareeha swallowed, she looked between the two men in the front seat and looked down, “Angela.”

Jesse let out a low whistle. “Tell you what, Reeha,” He smirked a little. “If mom found out you were going out on some little lovers tryst this weekend, she would demand to sit down and have ‘The Talk’ with you again and it will be super awkward and weird. I’ll make you a deal: I won’t tell Mom about you spending the weekend with Angela if you keep your yap shut about Hanzo.”

“Deal.”

________________

“So why did you become a Shambali monk?” Genji gripped the steaming coffee in his hand. Instead of returning to the shop, they had decided a brisk stroll around the block was needed. They meandered into a park and soon found themselves on a park bench. 

There were times he felt more comfortable in the crowd, sharing stories about himself without ever really letting anyone get to know him. Zenyatta was different though. Zenyatta seemed to be able to look straight through him and his careless facade. He was able to see the true Genji underneath it all. And most surprisingly, he seemed to enjoy his company regardless.

“I followed someone else into the monastery,” Zenyatta stated. His long, graceful fingers brushed slowly along the Parimachi plush in his lap. “Being an omnic, I felt...conflicted.”

“Conflicted?” Genji asked. 

“It is a struggle for living creatures, to think of themselves as mortal beings,” Zenyatta stated. “It is a core belief of the Shambali that one cannot appreciate life if you know it cannot end for you. Humans try and elongate their lives, but what of omnics? 

“Old omnics, the first omnics, could potentially live forever. We would replace parts when they went bad and continue on. Life became purposeless because of it. You are not able to appreciate how glorious the world truly is when you walk through it as if in a dream.”

Genji nodded slowly. He reached over and stroked the fabric of the Paramachi back, “That makes sense, I guess. But wouldn’t living forever give you a greater insight into the world?”

“I have a question for you then, my student. Imagine you build a grand house with an ax-”

Genji tried to not groan. He wanted to talk to the omnic, not get lectured. He had heard this one before, philosophical analogies to get a person to think about the meaning of the universe and why things happen. His uncle posed the question to him before, when he was just a child. He posed many questions to Genji that made his brain ache, things that were too complicated for any child to understand. “Yeah?” He feigned interest though. He liked the sound of the omnic’s voice.

“You have heard this story before?” Zenyatta looked at him in shock.

“My brother lectures me quite a bit. It’s the one about how the ax handle breaks so he fixes it, then the blade breaks so he replaces that and it is a philosophical question about is it still the same tool as before. Am I right?”

“Is it the same ax?” Zenyatta asked. “If I were to replace every aspect of my body and just transport my memories into a new being, would I still be Zenyatta?”

“You would,” Genji stated. “The only difference would be that you would be in a new body.”

“And how would that make you feel?” Zenyatta posed. “Knowing that your old existence was forever gone. The way your body reacts to sensations completely different and new. Would you still be Genji if you found yourself with a new face?”

He opened his mouth to respond. Of course, he would still be Genji. He would still be a flirt and a socialite. He would still enjoy the taste of his favorite Ramen and the refreshing taste of a cool beer after a long day. Wouldn’t he?

Zenyatta gave a pat to the boy’s knee, “That is the question omnics began to think. They were replacing all their parts, uploading their knowledge into new brains, but are they still the same omnic? 

“Our new generation of omnics took that philosophy and expanded on it, making it one of the core beliefs of the Shambali. We wish to be seen as living beings, we must then also one day die. Repair things instead of replacing. We live, knowing that our lives would have an end and the only thing that we will leave behind is our legacy. It made life more meaningful. More precious.”

Genji looked down at the white cap of the coffee in his hand before taking a long sip of it. He had changed as well since moving here, since becoming the Sentai Warrior. Before, he took very little seriously. He was a hellraiser and a bastard. He made his brother miserable on purpose, just to fuck with him.

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth. Change was necessary. He would have been unrecognizable to his friends from high school at this point. He hung out with an omnic monk and his brother more than anyone else. He went to classes on a (nearly) daily basis. He was responsible enough to keep in charge now. Hanzo did not have to worry about coming home and finding Genji crashing after an entire night of drinking and taking anything handed to him in pill form.

“I think,” He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “I need to get back to the store.”

____________

Hands stretched overhead, Hanzo could hear every pop of his spine realigning after the ridiculously long car ride up north. True, it was only an hour and a half up to the campsite, but Jesse insisted on meeting his sisters love interest and refused to just drop her off at the visitor’s center with her bag.

The air was chilly and crisp, but smelled clean, of fallen leaves and pine needles. He had taken the time to wander while Jesse got his sister situated. It was not his place to hang around and listen to the safe sex talk.

The air never smelled this sweet near the apartment. He closed his eyes as he strolled along one of the paved paths, keeping the visitor’s lodge in eyesight as he listened to the pine needles crunch underfoot. 

His whole life was spent in a concrete jungle. When he was a child in Japan, there were parks where his mother would take him to play that were large. Rivers and lakes and ponds where he could splash around in, but always in the distance was the familiar outline of civilization. Here, his gaze only met with more trees. Sloping hills and the horizon. 

It was overwhelming to think how lost he was out here. He could walk forward for ten minutes and be lost forever in an ancient wood.

“It’s even prettier up here at night,” Hanzo nearly lept out of his skin and turned to face the scruffy man with the lopsided grin. His fingers caught in his belt loops as he looked out along the treeline. “My dad used to take me up here camping. Jack was real good at all this. Grew up on a farm and was a literal boy scout. Took Fareeha up here as well with her mom once. It was like a whole family outing.”

Hanzo smiled and moved closer to him. “It sounds lovely.”

“Gabe was in the army, right? Big man, was scared of nothing. Until a giant wolf spider climbed into his sleeping bag. He slept in the car the rest of the trip,” Jesse smiled wickedly. “Kept calling it the devil’s spider and insisting that he pick our next family outing.”

“I have never been camping before. I believe this is the furthest away from civilization I have ever been,” He leaned his weight against the other, feeling the heat radiate off of him and warming Hanzo in places he didn’t realize were cold. 

“See now, that’s a damn shame. Everyone should get out and enjoy God’s green earth,” His arm slowly moved around Hanzo’s shoulder. “The plan was to get Reeha off, which I did, then get you back into the car and speed on home so we can do something a bit more fun. Seeing as you have never been here before, I think I need to rectify that. Show you around a little bit.” he smiled down at Hanzo. “Get a little lost in my truck.” Jesse wiggled his eyebrows and gave Hanzo’s middle a little squeeze, pulling the other closer to him. 

Hanzo let out a bark of laughter, “Mr. McCree, do you really think you can drag me up into the wilderness and just assume that I will allow you to have your way with me?”

“Sweetcheeks, you have been teasin’ me all day with those tight pants and that highfalutin’ attitude of yours. I reckon I got a real good chance. Especially after I put all my moves on you.”

Hanzo turned into Jesse, looping his fingers in the other man’s belt. “So you have moves beyond whispering sweet nothings in my ear and being so lewd with me that I now have a permanent ban from a museum?”

“You made me look at art,” Jesse countered, accusatorily. “What was a man to do?”

Hanzo’s hands slowly moved up Jesse’s sides, feeling the tense muscle under the flannel shirt as he wound them around his neck and pulled Jesse down to his level. “Maybe learn to restrain yourself in places we might get caught.”

Jesse surged forward, locking his lips against Hanzo’s in a desperate frenzy, knocking the other man back. Strong arms anchored him to the spot as they wound around his middle and locked him in that heated embrace. Hanzo gasped as their lips parted a fraction, only to have teeth catch his lower lip and swell him into another fierce embrace of teeth and tongue. 

His lungs began to burn as he pulled in another desperate breath of air. Hands splayed on his back, twisting in his black shirt and pulling him near with a desperation, blunt nails scraping through the fabric and raising goosebumps all down his arms, leaving him weak.

Hanzo’s eyes fluttered closed. He was desperate for more. The taste of cigar and mint on his tongue as the other probed his mouth with a madness. With frenzied movements, he needed to get the other closer, to melt their bodies together. 

Jesse was an itch he needed to scratch. Lips moved down, across his jaw as Hanzo pulled the other closer to him, hands carded through the other’s hair. He smelled of sandalwood and Sage. Earthy and wild and free. Hanzo let out a groan as he rocked his body forward, meshing their hips together and felt the impossible heat of the other.

And in an instant, Jesse was gone. He pulled back and left the cool chill of the fall against his bruised and swollen lips, before leaving one final kiss on his nose.

Hanzo blinked breathlessly as he looked at the other man, his mind awash in a lusty haze. He had wanted to continue, right? Hanzo hadn't been too forward?

A rush of anxiety swelled in Hanzo’s core as the man in front of him adjusted his own collar and tucked his shirt back into his pants. Had Hanzo read the kiss wrong? Was this just a game to Jesse?

“What can I say,” Jesse’s voice was husky and deep as he once again crowded Hanzo’s space before the other could voice a coherent thought. He peppered kisses along his cheek, chaise and innocent. Nothing at all like the searing blow that all at once felt like a dream. “I lose my damn mind when I am around you.” He hand threaded into Hanzo’s and gave a quick squeeze before stepping away, leaving every piece of Hanzo cold. All except that place, where their hands met. 

Without a word he tugged, compelling Hanzo to follow him along the path. His arm moved around the other’s middle and rested comfortably on his hip. The demons inside Hanzo subsided. He leaned further into the embrace, his head still swimming as they passed a family of hikers. Hanzo let his eyes flutter closed again as the parking lot neared. The trees around them would disappear. The crunch of leaves and pine needles dissipating into just the hard thumping of boots on uneven concrete. 

Jesse gave him a quick squeeze, “What’s with the glum look, Sugar Plum?”

“You stopped kissing me,” Hanzo stated finally. “Right when it was starting to get interesting.”

Jesse let out a chuckle. His thumb grazing along Hanzo’s side slowly, the thin fabric doing little to shield Hanzo from every nerve firing off as they neared the truck. “I got my sister all sent off on her first big girl camping trip. Gave her a few tips on how to woo a woman as well.”

“Heaven help your poor sister. She is going to be dropping terrible lines that are complete nonsense on some poor, unsuspecting biology student,” Hanzo leaned further into the touch as a chill wind rushed past, sending leaves scattering at their feet. Jesse’s arm moved up, cupping his shoulder and drawing him in nearer. He suddenly wished he had brought a jacket. Mittens. Anything. Winter was nearer here than in the city and he could feel the ice building in his veins. 

“My lines do me well, got you didn’t I?” chapped lips pressed against his temple. He could feel the scratch of the taller man’s beard in its wake. 

Hanzo leaned further into it, chasing the sensation and letting his eyes close again. He felt comfortable here, walking side by side with the shaggy, unkempt man at his side. Hanzo slowly unwrapped his arms from his middle and immediately missed their warmth as an icy breeze crept up his core, but he snaked his own arm around the other, up, under his leather jacket and pressed against the soft flannel of his shirt.

“Shit, Babe, why the hell didn’t you bring a jacket?” Jesse’s arm squeezed him in tighter, running up and down his mostly bare arm. “Get back in the truck, I’ll get you all sorts of warmed up.

Hanzo bit his lip and looked up into those concerned, whiskey color eyes as a devilish smirk crept over his features. “Promise?”

________________

His stomach was a series of knots and twists. Genji should not have allowed his mind to wander as much as it had. He hadn’t even realized he had started that downward spiral until he was sitting there on the bench, in the crisp afternoon air and he was forced to think about how much he had changed. Was he even Genji anymore?

High school had been a joke. He wandered in late and spent more time being truant than not. The police had to be called. Hanzo had to be called. There was a big meeting over it. Genji remembered, sitting in the conference room of the school with a room full of people. The principal across from him, with the truant officer to his right. Hanzo sat to his left and stoically listened as each of the people talked about him and his behaviors. 

He could not remember a single word spoken that day. He spent the night before out with friends and came home trashed. His head pounded and eyes ached. His joints were on fire. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he had to stay seated in that tiny office, next to his brother, and listen while people he did not care about tried to force him into a life he did not want.

His stomach lurched. He remembered looking over at his brother in the haze of the meeting and saw the quiet, simmering rage. Hanzo’s jaw was clenched tight, but his face an unreadable mask to anyone who did not know him. Under the desk, his hands clenched tightly to one another, fingernails biting into his skin, just enough to let the blood pool and rise to the surface. And his eyes…

Genji could not look at him. He had to turn away. His brother could be aloof. He could be strict and demanding, but that quiet fury in his dark eyes…

Fear swelled within him when those cold, furious eyes turned to look at him. Panic welled in him and bubbled over. He had seen that look before. Once before. He wanted to flee at the sight of those glacial eyes. He had to run before Hanzo had a chance to lash out at him.

But he didn’t run.

Genji pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, trying to ground himself in the present and sooth his mind. Was he still that Genji? The Genji he knew and liked? He was the life of the party. The troublemaker. The popular one that everyone wanted to be with. He was the lover and the fighter and the…

The what?

He let out a slow breath through his mouth as he flexed his hands slowly. Focus on one small action. Bring you back to the waking world.

Slowly, he became aware of the hand placed directly between his shoulder blades. It did not move. It stayed, steady. Genji leaned back into it, closing his eyes and tilting his head forward.

Zenyatta.

Zenyatta was still here. Still in the store. They had come back together. Genji had tried to come up with an excuse why the monk should leave, but the omnic seemed to not understand the nuances of his words. Instead, Genji retreated into the back room. He stated he needed to get some organizing done. It would just be a minute.

Apparently, that was a lie. He sat quietly, his forehead pressed against one of the metal shelves that held office supplies while Zenyatta sat behind him, unmoving, with a warm hand pressed against his shoulder blades. Unmoving.

“Have you come back to me?” Zenyatta asked quietly.

Genji gave a nod. He expected the monk to shift away. But he didn’t.

“How often do you meditate?”

Genji snorted, running the back of his hand across his nose and gave a silent thanks that he was not a complete mess. “Naw, that is my brother’s thing. I don’t...I can’t meditate.”

“I am sure you can,” Zenyatta stated. “I would enjoy having someone to share my meditation time with.” He had heard that line before as well. Trainers, counselors, welfare agents, police… I want to share my time with you. It was a way for them to keep an eye on him. Get him to talk and confess to things. It meant he was a screw-up. He could be better, but he chose not to. 

The hand remained. 

Genji swallowed as his mouth suddenly filled with saliva. He closed his eyes tight and pressed his forehead further into the shelf. Please don’t vomit, he begged. Please no. Not that.

“What is it that you want, Genji?” His voice was soothing. It had a musical tone to it. He felt his face relax a fraction as he focused again on that hand. 

What did he want…?

“A degree,” He managed. “For a job.”

Silence permeated the air. Genji shifted slightly, worried that he had not spoken out loud, or that he said the wrong answer. That should have been what he wanted, right? 

“Why do you want that, Genji?” Zenyatta finally asked.

“I want to have a good life and not have to worry about money. To be successful. Not a screw-up.”

“Why,” Zenyatta asked again. He felt the hand shift finally, the fingers going wide and pressed a little more. He leaned into it.

“Because it makes money. I can have a good career and not have to worry about anything.” Hanzo, his brain shouted. The reason he is doing this is Hanzo. It was Hanzo’s idea for him to go to college. Hanzo was the one who said he did not want him worrying. 

For once, Genji obeyed. They left the school that day together. Genji was far too sick to continue anyway. They sat in silence the whole car ride home. When they parked, Hanzo did not move. He did not scream or yell or...anything. In an instant, Hanzo’s shoulders sank down and his face seemed....old.

“I don’t know what to do, Genji. I call and I check in and I fight for you, but you still do this. You still push away,” Hanzo leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. “I’m tired.”

Tired...He looked tired. Absolutely exhausted. Guilt crept into his core. Hanzo was tired, and it was Genji’s doing. Never in his life had he felt the need to please his brother. Hanzo was obligated to like him. He was obligated to put up with his antics.

“I want to make my brother proud,” He said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been a fuck up most of my life and...I want…” He trailed off.

Slowly he felt the hand move up until it cradled the back of his neck. Zenyatta was warmer than he expected. Somehow, he felt like the touch of the omnic would be chilled and hard, instead, Genji leaned back into it, seeking the warmth. It reminded him of summer and the heat of the sun in the morning, not too hot but comfortably warm. He exhaled slowly. “You are a good man, Genji. Whoever you were before, you have evolved. You are allowed to change and better yourself.”

He turned and wrapped himself around Zenyatta’s middle. His head ached and his body felt worn out. He slumped against the other’s warm body, resting his ear against Zenyatta’s chest and listened to the rhythmic, mechanical hum from within the other’s body. He wanted to apologize, but he could not. His eyes fluttered closed as long fingers threaded through his hair and held him close. Genji allowed himself a shuddering breath as he held tight to the other like an anchor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out! I hope I can get the new chapter sooner than this one!
> 
> Like what I do, [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/W7W857SY)


	7. No Good Comes to Those Who Meddle

“Aw, Ma, seriously?”  Jesse groaned and rolled his eyes, dangling his legs over the side of the building, tipping the ash from his cigarillo down into the darkness of the night as he pressed his phone tighter against his ear.

“I don’t like you being alone,” the older woman scolded on the other end followed by the clang of metal and a crash.  Jesse moved the phone back as several other things banged around. Ana Amari was obviously in the middle of preparing dinner.

“I ain’t alone,” He shouted into the phone, still keeping it a respectable distance.

“What was that, Habibi?”  The woman asked once the clanging had stopped.

“I said I ain’t alone, Ma. Don’t spend your energy worryin’ over me,”

She tsked and set whatever she was holding down hard. “Do not lie to me,” She warned.

“Ma-”

“I know this dance now, Jesse McCree. You are going to say you are going out. Meeting friends, yes? You go to bars and you dance and you certainly do not spend your nights, sitting in your dark apartment, watching Netflix, smoking those cigars you swear to me you do not smoke all while sitting in your boxers and eating three-day-old Chinese that is still cold because you could not be bothered to heat it up. How close am I?” She said.

Jesse was quiet as he looked down at himself, dressed in a silk black suit and well-worn leather gloves, then to his surroundings.  The building was under renovations currently, the walls covered in clear plastic tarp with exposed beams of wood and steel. His gaze was drawn to the binoculars in his hand.  The wind whipped through the building, sending a shiver up his spine as it nearly knocked him back.“Ya got me, Ma.”  He sighed.  “Fine, I was tired after workin’ all day and I just wanted to stay in.”

There was another loud crash and Jesse sighed, wanting nothing more than to rub his tired eyes and hang up on the woman as she continued to scold him. 

“Work, work, work. That is all you seem to do lately. Every time I call you have another job to do. Early mornings in the suburbs helping to build houses, afternoons downtown helping little old ladies with their plumbing. Why, just a few weeks ago you were in a museum doing what, electrical work?”

“Yeah, Ma. It was the place that was broken into. They needed someone to help install security.”

“So you are a security firm now.” She hummed in amusement  “What is the job now, huh?”

“Oh,” Jesse puffed out his cheeks and looked around again before looking through the binoculars across the way to the fancy black-and-white party across town. Black cars pulled up and let out couples dressed in their best. It was still early yet. “Office work. They needed guys to help renovate a whole office floor. Pay was good.” At least that much was true. His prints were already all over the place from spending the day laying fresh sheetrock. If the police ever cornered him, he would have an alibi for why he was there. “They wanted it done before the new years, but that all fell through. I get paid a flat rate here once my work is done.” 

“Habibi,” Ana gasped. “You are working yourself to death!”

“Says the woman that pulls all night stakeouts,” Jesse laughed. “You and Rein used to be gone for days at a time trying to catch a lead.” 

“I just don’t want you to be alone,” Ana sighed again.  “Jesse, you are a kind young man with a good work ethic. You are wonderful and funny and-”

“Ma! Yer making me blush!” He laughed. “Stop worryin’. I got my life under control. Don’t fret. Is that why you decided to call me?” He snubbed out his cigarillo and flicked it off the building.   

“Well, a mother has a right to worry about her children, and...well...after Fareeha decided to confess her real reasons for going camping a few weeks ago..” She let the statement dangle in the air.

Sonovabitch motherfucker. A hot blush crept up his cheeks as the silence grew between them on the line. At first, there was the possibility that the call dropped. But then again, he knew Ana better than that.  A decorated police officer that was forced into retirement in her prime, she was a force of nature in a petite form.  Going into private business only seemed to sharpen her skills. It was a wonder he had any secrets with her around.  “I don’t-”

“Do not lie to me, Habibi,” her voice was icy. 

She was being vague.  He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and dropped straight into the pit of his stomach.  Two could play this game though, “All right,” He relented. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you know about Angela Zeigler,” Her voice went back to its normal, calm tone instead of interrogating him.

Instant, cool relief spilled over him. His sister had not ratted him out to their mother. His personal life was safe for another day. 

“Angela?”  His mind drew a deep blank as he repeated the name over and over, trying to picture an Angela in his mind. “I-” The girl.  Fareeha’s girl. It popped into his mind as he was about to confess no knowledge of anyone named Angela Zeigler.  “I have only met her a few times,” He lied.  “Seems nice. Smart too. Likes science. I think Reeha’s out to impress her.”

“Mmm,” Ana hummed “I expected as much from you. Lying to your own mother.” She tsked again.  

Jesse groaned. “What do you want me to say? They go to the same college and Reeha spoke of her a few times saying she was nice and smart and studying to be a doctor or something.” A memory popped into his mind as he spoke. “Reeha said she volunteers at the raptor center helping out injured animals?” He tried.

Ana hummed.  “She was invited over for dinner. Tomorrow. You are welcome to join us.”

Jesse groaned again.  “Thanks but-”

“It is family dinner, Jesse,” It was a warning.  

“I guess I can-”

“Oh, wonderful!” Ana put the phone on her shoulder and called. “Rein, Jesse will also be coming for dinner tomorrow!”

“Okay, Ma, I gotta go, okay?”

“You know,” She continued “I will have Reinhardt, and Fareeha will have her girlfriend there…” Again, she left the conversation hanging in the air. He could almost hear her continue on. Five was not a good number for a dinner party. Five people left someone out.  That was just not fair to that one, lonely person.

“Goodbye, Ma. I’ll be over tomorrow afternoon. I’ll help cook.”

“Jesse-”

“Gotta go,” He hung up before she could continue, pressing the edge of the phone against his forehead and let out a loud groan.  Of course. This old game. It happened every time.  She and Reinhardt meant well. They really did. They wanted both he and Fareeha happy and healthy...it was just infuriating how much she...mothered them.

He sighed and looked out again through the binoculars and focused on the soiree happening across the street. More people were showing up in limos at street level. Even from this height, he could see the partition that blocked off the regular folk from the pompous and elite. He could not see it, but he guessed it would be red velvet. Those types enjoyed the red velvet treatment for everything.  He settled back as another cold gust of wind rocked through the open side of the building. He wished he bundled up more, but it would have hindered his mission. He had to wait and watch for the opportunity.

_______

Hanzo wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled wide as he stepped back, admiring his work.  Genji had finals this week and had been absolutely panicked over it all, despite hiding himself away in his room and studying for hours each night.

It had been hard, managing the store all day long without any relief, but Jesse had been a wonder and stopped by for dinner twice and business had picked up because of the holidays.  The tree in the window, decorated with little trinkets from the store had been a fantastic addition, welcoming in passersby, especially those stopping in at the restaurant next door.  

The extra income had allowed him to take a little money out and finally purchase some things their apartment desperately needed. He was able to actually pay Jesse for the fridge and air conditioner instead of just giving the man hollow promises. Jesse had been adorable sweet about it as well, confessing to doing it all just to gain Hanzo’s favor.

Needless to say, it worked.

Christmas season had also given Hanzo the ability to go out and finally get his brother something he desperately needed; a bedroom set.  It was not perfect, a second-hand (or possibly fourth-hand) set with a bed, dresser and end table. Not a lot, but an actual bed, not just a mattress on the floor.

Hanzo had found it while delivering some old furniture pieces to another antique store, one that specializes in refurbishing and restoring furniture.  Once in his store, he saw a noxious green bed with navy posts. It was obnoxious and terrible. He knew Genji would adore it.

Waiting for Genji to leave for an entire day had been easier than he figured once finals week has started. Tonight, he had his last test of the semester. It was the perfect opportunity, giving Hanzo plenty of time to lock up the shop for fifteen-minute increments and rush upstairs to set up pieces at a time.

He must have been more ambitious than he originally thought though, as each time he returned to the room, a little more was pieced together than he remembered. He smiled as he stood back and admired his work. The bed was set up, with fresh sheets and a new spread over the top, in a similar navy to the paint along the furniture. Hanzo took great care with Genji’s belongings, making sure to not pry too deeply into his brother’s personal life, though he did wonder when his brother developed a taste for old science fiction novels.   

He ran a hand through his hair and frowned at the length before turning away from the room and to the disheveled bathroom.  It was embarrassing how disgustingly unclean everything was. He quickly put the cap back on the toothpaste and placed it inside the drawer before grabbing a rag and wiping everything down. It was a quick fix, he told himself. He did not have the time tonight to clean the apartment proper.

With Genji gone, either his last-minute study groups or at a test, the responsibilities that were usually shared now fell solely on Hanzo.  Hanzo prided himself on his ability to keep everything neatly organized; to have a well-balanced life with few distractions. He was usually so pristine with everything he did, but again, he had to pull full shifts in the shop, only breaking a few times during the day.

Lately, breakfast consisted of gross tasting strawberry protein shakes from a can and had a slightly metallic taste to them. He would drink it as fast as he could and throw the remains into the overfilled trash bag near the door. He had meant to tie it up and take it to the trash, but it too was forgotten about so he could work in a morning workout. He cherished those mornings now more than ever, as it was the only time he was able to see Jesse.

A quick shower and a change of clothing led him into the shop for the remainder of the day. Lunch was whatever he could grab from the fridge that was not past an expiration date. If he never looked at another shitty bowl of mac and cheese in his life, Hanzo would be eternally grateful.  

He splashed cool water on his overheated face and sighed as he looked into the mirror. His eyes were deep set and puffy, clearly showing his lack of proper sleep over the past week.  Genji looked far worse when he left that morning, even needing to come back and grab his forgotten bag then again when he forgot his keys.  

Tomorrow, he decided would be Genji’s day to rest up. What was one more day working the shop alone at this point? Genji was already going to be out late with friends. Hanzo hadn’t the heart to deny his brother this brief respite of peace. And what Genji needed was a true place of peace.  A room of his own, as it were, away from his brother and school. A place where he could come home and relax.

Hanzo shook out his hair and pulled it into a loose top knot before exiting the bathroom and padding down to his bedroom. His alarm had not gone off, and he still would have a few moments himself before he needed to return to the shop.  

Luckily, it was past nine. He had officially closed the shop down and just needed to finish inventory and clean. With any luck, he would be complete with everything by eleven. He could then curl up on the couch and give Jesse a call while watching something brain-numbing on the television.

A light chirping pulled him back to the present.  It was unusual for Jesse to text while at work, he thought as he looked down at his phone.

‘4 of 12. Next one due. Remember the deadline. Meet me tomorrow.’

The number was unknown.

Hanzo swallowed. He leaned his shoulder against the wall as he felt the blood drained from his face and settle in the pits of his stomach, twisting his insides into knots as his lips went numb. He read the text again.

And again.

Akande Ogundimu? It had to be. There was no other that would send him such a cryptic and threatening message. Nothing that specific as well.

These past months he had been diligent in getting through Akande’s damn list. He had retrieved four of the items as well as sending in a percentage of his paycheck each month. He kept his interactions with the man at a minimum, despite hand delivering each parcel to his assistant. His mind reeled as he attempted to do the mental calculations.  They moved here at the end of summer, right when school began. Shortly after that, he had been summoned. He had met every deadline.

There were twelve items. One per month. At this rate, he was supposed to have three in. He should have even been ahead of schedule. Unless Akande expected two a month.

Did he? 

In that case, he would be behind in payment. Why had he not asked about that? Why did he assume that one stolen good should come each month with one of his payments?

Would he be expected to bring in another artifact?  

His feet moved faster than his brain as he dashed down the hallway, missing the turn and crashing into the wall before scrambling into his room. The door slammed shut, loud enough to rattle the window panes as he threw the locking it behind him before pressing his back against the wood.

No one was home, he reminded himself. No one would be home for hours, and yet the nature of this work. He could not allow Genji to ever see this part of his life. He felt paranoid in his own place. Worried about imaginary eyes following him, knowing all his secrets.

Hanzo rolled his shoulders back as he felt his heart threaten to beat out of his chest as he pushed off the door and walked the short distance to the closet. His fingers reached out, touching the soft blue jade of the stone dragons Genji had given him as he passed, feeling the comfort in the cool stone.

Akande wanted him to fail. He could not give that man the satisfaction. He was a Shimada-a dragon, not just some damn child Akande could scare so easily. He was something more.

Setting his nerves once more, Hanzo slowly opened his closet door, attempting to make not a sound, as if the simple act was enough to invoke the act he was about to perform. Regally, he sunk to his knees and pulled out the box hidden in the back.  Back straight as a board, feet tucked under him. Even after all these years, he felt honor-bound to respect the old traditions. His heart thudded through his chest, threatening to break free as he ran his hands over the black lacquered top.  

Slowly, he opened the box and reached down the side. His hand found the manila folder he had tucked away behind the clothing, hidden from view. He often wondered why he had not chosen to hide it more thoroughly, the back of his closet was by no means a mysterious place. Anyone with half a sense could walk in at any time and find his secret out.

‘ _Maybe that is what you want_ ,’ A voice in his head whispered. ‘ _You want to be caught_ ’  

No, that wasn’t true. He spent so long hiding the truth of their past from his brother. Why would he jeopardize all that he has done…

The lid slammed shut loud, pulling him again to the present. Hanzo swallowed the lump in his throat and laid the folder out on top of the box. This had to be his life now. He had to push away all other distractions. Akande wished to meet. There was no disobeying that order.  He was a puppet for this man as long as he was indebted to him. Every free moment Hanzo had was poured into the contents of this folder. Dedicated to research, looking up long past family records, statements of purchase and museum records. It was his task alone to find where each item was located as well as the best practice with extracting it without the police getting involved.  His first heist did not go as planned. It as a spectacular failure in every regard. He had been more careful since. The police were easy enough to evade, but that masked hero…

It was lucky that everything Akande asked for was in the city. He had not been asked to travel abroad. It was probably purposeful.  Given the chance, Hanzo would disappear into the wilds just to make sure he never had to follow another one of these damned orders again.

“Just get these twelve and then it will be done. I will be done.” He whispered and flipped through the papers. The first four were notes on everything he already collected. Nothing there would be of any help. He needed to find something new. Something small and easy to pilfer. His eyes roamed down each page, looking past his neat script. His brain would not focus on the writing. He could not distinguish one word from the other as he began to flip pages faster and faster, his heart threatening to break out of his chest.

‘ _That is what you think_ ,’ the voice continued, whispering in hissed tones. ‘I _t starts with this twelve._ ’

He shook his head harder as his shoulders tensed tight, sending a wave of pain up his back. He had not been stretching properly. His body was protesting his movements.  “It ends with twelve,” Hanzo hissed out. “These twelve and then I am free.”

‘ _That man is a manipulator. He says it will be done, but what happens when you give him everything?_ ’

The room spun around him. His vision tunneled down to a pinprick as he gripped the sides of the box to keep himself upright.   Panic set in his bones. He flipped the pages faster and faster. His left side began to burn and prickle.

‘ _It will not be enough. It will never be enough,_ ” the voice was growing louder, hissing in his ears, surrounding him from all sides.  

Breathe, he ordered himself, forcing his lungs to take in a strangling breath of air as his vision focused on pinpricks.  He squeezed the box around his fingers tight, trying to force those vicious voices out of his skull as they twisted around his chest, constricting him tighter.

Genji. He had to call Genji.

His hand shook as he removed it from the box, only to grip it again. If he let go, he would fall. How far away was the ground from here? It felt like a thousand feet. If he let go, he doubted he would ever crash into the ground. He would fall forever.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, feeling the sweat roll down his brow.

_‘Pathetic_ ,’ the voice sang, ‘ _Look at you, heir to the Shamadas. Trained from birth to complete this task, and all you have done with this infinite power is run away. You hide and pretend to be normal_.’

“I am normal,” Hanzo breathed out. “I am not like them. I am not-” He stopped.

‘ _You are not what, Shimada? A thief? A bully?_ ’ His head sunk down, finding the cool hardness of the box, waiting for the words to come. Even in his own brain, he could not escape the truth of what he was. _‘Murderer_.’

A sob raked out through his body, shuttering as he collapsed. His body ached as he wrapped himself around the black box, letting those words sink in.  He was those things. He was made to be all those things. He was a tool, honed and whetted until he was as brutal and cunning as his forefathers.

‘ _Is it so terrible?_ ’ The voice came lodged deep in his brain. Quieter now as his sobs slowed, leaving him in anguish. ‘ _To be built for this and deny yourself what you are is the greater tragedy.’_

He slowly pushed himself back. His gaze fell to the image on the papers before him, a simple jeweled stick no longer than his finger was pinned to the lapel of a jacket, it’s head was adorned in a smiling skull with ruby jewels for eyes. His head lulled to the side as he sat, transfixed by it.

‘ _How dare that man think he can tame a dragon. Show him what you really are_.’

________

“ L'Chaim!” Lena called out as she tossed back another shot before twisting the glass upside down and stacking it up onto the others in the pyramid formation she created in front of her.  

Genji was surprised. Cheerful, careful, observant Lena Oxton could hold her liquor better than anyone her size had a right to. She chalked it up to a fast metabolism and the fact she once had to drink an honest to god cowboy under the table as a reason for her ability to slosh them back faster than the rest of them. But the effects were definitely showing. Her cheeks were a nice, ruddy pink, showing off the spread of freckles on her cheeks.

Lucio, in all his drunken glory, had made a comment about wanting to connect all the larger ones together and make the bridge of Lena’s nose look like a constellation.  Hana, easily the soberest of the group, instead found him a dot-to-dot book from under her bed and was able to convince them both that it would probably be a bad thing to use markers on each other’s faces.

Genji himself reclined back against the bed on Hana’s dorm. Her roommate had finished her last semester and was now packed up to head home, allowing Genji the privilege of sitting on a real bed with a real mattress for once.

“Lena, I did not know you were Jewish,” He smiled and took the bottle of rum away, slipping it out of the girl’s sight as she toppled her impressive shot glass pyramid.

“Oh, I’m not Jewish, luv,” She winked. “My girlfriend is though.”

“I didn’t know Emily was Jewish,” Lucio did not even look up from the book in front of him as he sprawled out further on the floor. Hana was sprawled over him, her DS in hand as she continued to play her way through some handheld game.

Lena hummed happily, “And guess what we found out. I’m kosher.” All three of them looked up, finding a crooked smile play on her lips as she snorted and laughed harder. “D’ya get it? Kosher?”

“On that note, I think I am going to get our friend Ms. Oxton home,” Lucio let out a long sigh and pushed himself up to sitting, displacing Hana in the process. He seemed to sober up quickly, obviously faking the better part of his drunken state.  

“Wot?” Her accent became more slurred. She frowned deeper as Lucio moved over and held out her coat. He knelt down and helped her get her shoes onto her feet.

“Lena, you have had one-two...nine shots. You are three sheets to the wind, my friend,” He picked her coat out of her hands and was able to maneuver her into it much faster than Genji thought would be possible.

Hana rested her back against the bunk and snapped her gum.  “Make sure she drinks a whole lot of water, Luci. That girl is going to have a monster hangover tomorrow.”

“Rubbish,” Lena waved both her arms around and frowned as Lucio pulled her up, to her feet. Her hands gripped his arms and she gasped. “Okay, maybe I am a little more off than I thought.”

Lucio laughed, putting an arm around her middle to help her stay upright.  “That’s what happens when you stress drink. And we finish drinking when you start referencing your vagina as something kosher.”

Lena snickered again at her joke as the pair tumbled to the door and out, into the hall.

Hana stood and shut the door, locking it. “Luci’ll make sure she is well taken care of. Did you know he has like, seven brothers and sisters?” She flopped onto the bed. “And hundreds of cousins.  Literally, he is the best big brother out there. This isn’t the first time he has brought her home a little tipsy. How’re you doing? Need to take that bed?”

“Naw, not that bad off, actually,” Genji stretched his arms overhead, feeling his back pop back into alignment.  He made a note to go running with Hanzo the next morning.  “Seriously, I feel like I should be worse off,” He lifted up the bottle and looked at the meager remainder of the bottle.  “I had five shots and I feel like I’ve only drank a beer.”

“It’s watered down,” Hana smirked she moved over and picked it up.  “I love you all dearly, but I’m the only one that brings drinks.”

“Hey, I’m underage here, missy. It’s not like I can walk into the corner store and just pick up a bottle.”

“Oooh, look at you, all righteous with your inability to get a good fake id.” She flopped down on her bed.  “Lena swears she drank a cowboy under the table but fails to mention that he was already pissed drunk when they started.  She had a fast metabolism so she doesn't stay drunk long, but she gets drunk fast.”

“And here I am, pacing myself like a fool,” Genji smirked.  “It’s better this way, I’m sure Hanzo had a to-do list for me a mile wide at this point and he will expect it all done by tomorrow at noon.” He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, giving his best Hanzo impersonation as Hana giggled.  

“Don’t be mean,” She swatted his arm. “Hanzo frowns more like this,” She puffed out her chest and gave a frowning sneer. “See, it’s like you know you stepped in shit, but you can’t let anyone know.”

Genji giggled and leaned against her. “He can be a jerk, but he’s good, deep down. Like...way-way deep down.”

“His badness level is unusually high for someone of his size.”

Genji snickered again and settled against Hana, enjoying the contact of a friend not looking for anything else but a companion.  He enjoyed all his friends here, but Hana was special.  Hana was able to worm her way into Hanzo’s list of acceptable people. A list that was so small, Genji could count it on his hand; himself, Hana Song and the mysterious man.  “When are you going home?”

Hana hummed, scrolling through her phone. “Dun know,” She answered.  “Home’s kind of chaotic most of the time. The commute downtown in the morning is terrible too. I’m thinking I’ll just stay here, go out to visit the folks when I need something.”

Genji sat up. “Are you staying here then? For the whole break?”

Hana nodded. “I have a job lined up. Going to get credit for it as well, so I don’t have to take as many classes for the spring.” She reached over and pulled out a folder, handing it to Genji, not looking up from her phone in the process.

It was a tell he had picked up on.  Hana Song liked to remain clear-headed and cool. She liked to be the picture of serenity and poise, even when she was scared. He had never seen her break a sweat or swear in anger. Her live streams, where she would scream and overreact were a show. It was made for an audience, a clear theatrical performance that never reared its head when she competed professionally. Instead, she would be nonchalant about the things that frightened her. She would hyper-focus on a screen and not meet his gaze.

Genji looked down at the folder in his lap, embossed on the front in gold lettering was ‘The Herald’. He opened it up and looked down at the nearly typed articles within, all neatly organized and proudly displaying the name Hana Song. “You are going to write for the newspaper?”

“I wish,” she scoffed. “Too young. Not enough experience in the field. Blah blah. I’m going to be working on their website, uploading articles and archiving things.I’m getting paid though, and it gets me in a door so I’ll do it.”

“I thought you wanted to be a pro gamer,” He smirked and looked over some of the articles she wrote.

“Yeah, me and like, twenty million other people. I am not giving up on that dream. I just want to be the best, you know? Plus, being at The Herald does get me a first class seat into all news about the Sentai Warrior.” She smirked wickedly and thrust his phone into his face.

He fumbled, catching the phone in his hands and looking down at the very, obnoxiously pink website she pulled up. His stomach twisted as he recognized the font and logo from before. Those two women from the store. That website he sent Winston looking for and could never find. “This is-”

“My blog,” Hana smiled and scooted closer. “My work in journalism. I mean, really, who cares if the cafeteria changed vendors and now the fries are soggy at dinner. Seriously, big picture, it’s dumb. This though,” She scrolled down, showing him some photos of the Sentai Warrior. “This is real news. Something important. Something that the newspapers are not focusing on.”

“Which part is that, the fact that this guy is the real threat to the city or is it the idea that he is going to lead an omnic uprising?”

Hana sat back, “Nither. This Sentai Warrior is taking up a long-dormant mantle that the city once saw as necessary. He is our protector.” She hopped off the bed and ran to her desk, shoving aside the pile of video equipment and brought back a thick, old-fashioned photo album, thrusting it out to Genji.  “I forgot, you didn’t really grow up here.”

He frowned, “I-”

“Yeah yeah, you had a foster family here, but you lived in the burbs, away from the city. I did grow up here. Like, in the city here. Mom finally moved out of the city after the bridge collapsed and Mom said it was too dangerous of a place for a kid.”

The faux leather of the album was cool under his hands as he opened it up, listening as Hana explained how she had all this on her blog, but this was the start of her obsession. She opened to the first page, two a photograph of Hana as a small child, sitting inside a cut up cardboard box painted bubblegum pink. Two wings were tapped to either side of the contraption haphazardly, but she sat inside with a gap-toothed grin, her arm in a sling between two smiling parents, their arms around the box, hugging it.

“That was taken after I got out of the hospital,” Hana pointed, her voice not showing the usual mirth that she carried. “I don’t remember much about that day, but I was caught in a building that was on fire.  It was too dangerous for the firefighters to go back in and the floor was collapsing. Then they were there. They saved my life.”  

She turned the page in the book and pointed to a newspaper clipping. The caption read ‘Masked Vigilantes Save Young Girl’. Beneath it was a large photo showing two men in masks standing among the rubble of the building. The one held a bundle in his arms while the other had a bottle of water. In the background, the firefighters were running to meet them.

“All I broke was my arm and I had some smoke inhalation. I was fine though. I made a full recovery.”

Genji’s gaze turned back to the two men.  The one that held Hana close was cradling her body to him, protecting her from the heat of the flames. He drank in the sight of the blue jumpsuit with black embellishments running along the sides and silver outlining. Behind him, a tattered black cape billowed. His fast was obscured by a helmet, much like one a motorcyclist would use, but thinner, more defining.

The other man stood near him, his hand on the first man’s hip as he looked down at the child and looked like death himself with a skull in place of a human face painted in swirling gold to look like a sugar skull.  He dressed in elegant blacks and reds that were now singed and dulled with ash. Even though his face was obscured as well, his body language spoke of the depth of his concern. “That one is The Daredevil,” She pointed to the man in blue.  “This one is the Mariachi Bandit.”

Genji snorted back a laugh.  Memories flooded back as he flipped the page, looking at the headlines and newspaper clippings that centered around these two vigilantes, of Gabe sitting at the breakfast table, his feet kicked up on another chair until Jack swatted them away, his face buried in the paper and swearing in Spanish, complaining about how idiotic the name Mariachi Bandit was.

“And if it were up to you, dear, what would you have the papers call him? El Diablo? El Segator?”

“Stop using Google translate, Jack. It’s unbecoming.” Gabe folded the newspaper, setting it aside. He folded his hands in front of him and looked over, catching Genji’s eye as he winked. “I would want to be La Muerte.”

Jack laughed at that, kissing his forehead as he poured more coffee into his cup. “Of course you would.”

Hana flipped the page again, pulling Genji out of the sunny memories long past gone.  “I started blogging about them when I was twelve and got my first computer. They were my heroes, you know? They literally disestablished crime rings and they made it possible for bad men to get arrested. Some people think they were cops. I don’t think they were though.”

She pointed to a faded photograph of nine people in tuxedos, all holding up champagne glasses to the photographer.  “See these people here. This was taken at a gala hosted by some of the biggest names in the crime world. It was also the night that the bridge collapsed. It killed seven people, including The Daredevil and The Mariachi Bandit. The official report said that it was an accident, you know? One of those freaky things that happened. The devastation was so bad that only three bodies were able to be identified, the rest were left there in the rubble.”

“I didn’t know about that,” Genji looked at the photo.  “Why this here then?”

“They all had an alibi to the crime.  I think they worked together to off these two. They didn’t care who died as long as these two were killed.  Not long after the police commissioner was relieved of her duty. These men were able to twist the story in a matter of months to make it sound like the vigilantes were the ones that caused the bridge collapse and that the police were complicit in the act.”

She turned the page again to another gala photograph, this one held a much larger group of men and women. Some of the faces remained the same. It was black and white, hastily printed from a copier and obstructed some of the finer features of the group. “This was taken like, fifteen years ago. All of these were leaders of criminal organizations. All of them were above the law as well, they would never be charged with anything. The next year is when the masked vigilantes started popping up and stopping the drug trades and the deals.”

Genji’s eye wandered over the page, at the smiling faces that looked back to him and his guts twisted. The faces were blurred, their expressions unreadable, but there was something there, deep inside the photograph that unsettled him. He quickly turned the page again as he felt the sweat trickle down the back of his neck, his jaw ached as he realized he had been clenching.

Another newspaper article greeted him with the headline ‘7 Dead. Who is to Blame?’. The photograph was taken from the air, showing the collapsed remains of a large bridge in the rushing rapids of the river. All around were emergency vehicles, blocking off the crowds. Under that was a list of names.

‘Casey Bowman

Johanna Garcia

Beth Lewis

Conrad McCormick

John ‘Jack’ Morrison

Cheryl Parker

Gabriel Reyes’

Genji felt his insides clench. He slammed the book shut and shoved it at Hana, feeling a prickle behind his eyes threatening to break out. The room suddenly felt too small. The air too thick. He started to pace back and forth, refusing to look at the panic expression on Hana’s face at the rejection “I-”  he started. He swallowed and buried what he wanted to say deep inside.  He needed a change in subject.  “What does this have to do with the Sentai Warrior?”

Hana moved slowly, reaching out and taking his hand.  “Just a feeling,” She did not try and move him. She held his hand tight as he stopped pacing.  “This past year feels a lot like the days before. It started with the Masked Vigilante, you know-”

“I know him. He robbed my brother’s store and beat the ever-living shit out of him,” Genji’s grip on her hand tightened.  

Hana nodded. “Then this other one popped up. He’s been seen several times on camera, but no one has caught a clear image of him yet.”  She moved over to her computer and pulled up a photo database.  “See?”

Genji swallowed. He moved over and looked down at the blurred images of the man in blue with a red mask. He had only met him once, on the street after the museum job. After that, both men seemed to stay ahead of him. They covered their tracks and disappeared into the night, only to have Winston learn about them after the fact. The news had even stopped reporting on them, finding the story of masked robbers as passe. “So you think these two are working together?” He had thought that himself.

Hana shook her head.  “No. Not together. Not in the traditional way. My source that gets me these photos said that they haven’t been seen together since that museum robbery when the Aguma no Kaito first appeared.”

“The what?”

Hana smiled. “I named him myself. It means Demon Thief in Japanese. That’s what his outfit is, traditional Japanese imagery. My source likes it as well. We are hoping the news picks up on it, then we will know that they are getting their information from us.” She scrolled through the photographs, each one as blurred as the last.  “Aguma no Kaito was also the codename of a famous thief. He would come in the night and rob a place of all its valuables. He was never caught. They said he was like a ghost.”

He licked his dry lips and opened his mouth.  His stomach twisted in knots as he tried to focus on something, anything Hana said. It was as if nothing and everything stuck to the corners of his mind, each one pulled out separate memories of the past. Memories he buried deep inside himself. The photograph, the vigilantes, Jack and Gabe, the thief….that name. Each one rolled around, taking percipient in his mind before dissolving away into the muddled mesh of his addled mind.  

He closed his eyes and took a centering breath, focusing himself once again before opening his mouth and…

The blare of his ringtone drowned out where his mind hand landed, banishing away any final thoughts as he looked down at the device in his pocket. Hana turned away, shutting the laptop firmly before putting her album away as well. He answered without looking at the name, “Hello?” He asked dryly.

“Genji, it’s me. I know I said I wasn’t going to bother you tonight unless it is an emergency,” Winston let the rest hang in the air.

Genji took a final deep breath and looked to Hana, resting the phone against his shoulder. “I have to go home. Hanzo needs me.” He pulled on his shoes and grabbed his coat before running out the door. “Also, keep up that Sentai Warrior stuff. It’s pretty cool.” He shut the door behind him without another word and walked off, only half listening to the directions Winson gave. His mind still churned.

Jack and Gabe. The photograph. The thief. The bridge. The masked vigilantes. Aguma no Kaito. Ghosts.

The photograph…

That photograph with the blurred faces. The familiar sense that he had seen that picture before. The way it burned into his skull like the lost memory of a song he once knew. It rested there, begging to be remembered. If only he could piece it together.

That photograph.

________

December was bitterly cold. His suit did very little to shield him from the brutal wind that whipped around him. He relinquished his coat to the tiny simian sitting beside him on the rooftop, bundling Winston up tightly, in fear that the savage weather would whisk him away.

Nothing had been seen yet. Genji crouched down to brace himself better as the wintery mix of ice and snow pelted his helmet, his gaze focused on the brilliant lights ahead of them in the penthouse apartment.

“And you are sure this time? Something will happen here?” His words came out far harsher than he meant, pulling up the binoculars and spying on the party ahead.  He could see women in brilliant colors of red and green and gold and men in sharply cut black tuxedos milling around with champagne in their delicate fingers. More men were stationed around the windows, arms folded neatly in front of themselves.  This party had security.

“I am as sure as I was the last time,” Winston stated, pulling out his datapad.

“So that is a maybe on the theft. This might be the place, the same way that jewelers may have also been a place. Or the bank. Or the-”

“I get it,” Winston grumbled, snatching the binoculars away.  “It’s not like I have an agenda for these thieves. The Aguma no Kaito is taking bizarre treasures. Things are not appearing on the black market or in pawn stores. They are taken and just disappear.”

Genji rolled his eyes at the sound of that name.  He felt his blood boil in his skin as his jaw clenched tighter “Or maybe he is holding onto them until the heat is down. He isn’t some demon. He is a fucking loser with a complex. And where did you hear that stupid name anyway?”

Winston frowned deeper. “The news is starting to call him that. A witness gave a description of him to the police. He matches the records of an unsolved case. The police think that this is the apprentice of the original demon thief now. That these heists are his initiation into the criminal world.”

Genji frowned.  He wondered how much of that story was Hana’s fabrication. How much was truth and how much was his friend looking for her fifteen minutes of fame?

No, that was not fair. Hana wasn’t looking for fame and glory. She was looking for the truth. The story behind these robberies, just like he was. His insides had not untwisted since he saw the names in that newspaper clipping.  He knew Jack and Gabe had died. He knew there was an accident...why then had they not told him the truth? Why hide it? “So what kind of affair are we looking at here?” He mumbled out.

“I believe it is a charity gala. Tonight there is going to be an auction of priceless jewels and art pieces. The security is tight, but that means nothing to our thieves. With this much priceless antiques here, it just feels like a place they will attack.”

Genji nodded and looked down. “Aguma no Kaito is a stupid name.” He mumbled out.  “I would call him something more fitting, like a pain in the ass.”

“I doubt he would go for that title very much,” Winston smiled.

“Then he can come meet me at the police station and we can have a nice conversation about what would be a good name for him.” Genji set his shoulders back and continued to watch.  “Maybe we can instead call him Dickweed.”

“The Amazing Dildo.”

Genji snorted.

______

Sneaking in had been far easier than it should have been. Hanzo frowned and moved among the shadows, keeping himself in the shadows and almost melting into them.  Slipping into the building had been easy, slipping in the back service entrance and riding up the elevator until he was several floors below the penthouse apartment. It took little effort to make the final climb upwards, into the massive, two-story penthouse apartment.

The journey from his apartment to this exact moment had been a blur, the world disappearing around him until this moment. It was as if an invisible force had dictated his directions, pulling him into the night.

Now, he stood fully aware of every minute detail around him as he moved along the wall. He could hear the rabble of the elite as they continued with their gala party above him, the scuffle of shoes on the hardwood floor, the clinking of glasses and the soft drone of the live quartet. Because of course, there is a live quartet.

He rolled his eyes and set off. The security was lax down here, surprisingly. He had seen a guard make a sweet around before heading back upstairs. It was as if the owner had no reason to think that any of his patrons would come down here to pilfer his things.

The lower level of the penthouse was bathed in blessed darkness. He crept along, keeping his eyes focused on the stairs leading up. He needed to find that pin and leave as quickly as he came.

The image of the stick pin was held in his mind as he slipped silently into the master bedroom. Among all the rest of the precious items that Akande Ogundimu had requested, this antique breastpin felt the most...ordinary. It was simple brass with jeweled eyes, but it was not any different than any of the hundreds of jeweled bobbled he held in his own store.

It was a wonder that he even found the piece. He found it an obscure database, sold as a lot at auction with about a hundred other stick pins in a collection and settled here as an art piece.  At least, that is what he assumed. What other function could a hundred antiquated pieces of men’s jewelry be used for?

He stepped gingerly into the master suite, using the light from the city to illuminate his path.  It had to be set out on display. It had to be somewhere, he just hoped it was not upstairs. God, he just wanted to grab the target and get out before he was even detected. It was one stick pin, he was sure he could nab it without anyone even knowing it was gone.

He stepped into the walk-in closet and the lights flickered on to life, illuminated by the motion detector. In the far end, he saw it, a box set upright under a dome of glass, each of the tiny pins stuck out, catching the light of the room.

“Hey there, Babyface, fancy meeting you here.” Hanzo groaned at the voice, muffled slightly behind a scarf. His shoulders dropped and he turned slowly, finding the mysterious vigilante behind him, leaning comfortably against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He tipped his hat towards him.  

Hanzo rolled his eyes dramatically.  “Why do I even try? You are always here first to claim what is mine.”

The man held up a wrapped parcel. “Naw, Baby, I already got what I needed right here. I was just leavin’ when I saw your pretty face and figured I would warm you I probably set off a silent alarm.”

“If you set off the alarm, we would already be swarmed from above,” He felt his face flush from the comment that came from the other man. “And how would you know I was pretty? I’ve been in a mask every time we have crossed.”

“Baby, it’s cause you got the prettiest dark eyes I have ever seen. It’s like looking into the inky blackness of space and finding heaven there,” He pushed off the wall with a shoulder and sauntered closer.  “What brings you here tonight? The ambiance? The mood?” his voice lowered a decibel as he stepped into his range. “The company?”

Hanzo shook his head and turned back. “An antique brooch.” He motioned to the display case, feeling free enough to speak of his task. “And yourself? What brought you here?”

The Masked Man held up the package again and shrugged. “Birthday present for my Mama. Figured she deserved something nice this time, instead of the usual get-up of a card and chocolates.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes again, but couldn’t help but smirk, “Liar.”

“Oh, I’m the liar now? You, this famous historical thief breaking into a fancy shindig like this just to take some five dollar whatsit? Naw, man. That ain’t your style.”

Hanzo moved to the glass case and looked it over, peering in at the many opulent ornamental pins, trying to find the one.  “So now you know my style? We have bet a total of one time, Mystery Man, do not have the gall to think you know me.”

He whistled and hooked his thumb into his belt as he practically oozed into the room. “I've heard of you, Demon Thief. You are all I hear about lately through the chatter. Some big shot old-time thief with a reputation to keep is what I heard. You ain’t that old for starters. You got something to prove there, mister. Something a tiny little stick-pin ain’t gonna show shit.”

Their eyes locked. The space between them filled with electricity as Hanzo saw the devastating focus of this man and realized, this calm demeanor and cool canter was all for show.  He was hyper-aware of every movement Hanzo made.

“Maybe I just want to prove I can take it.”

“Maybe you are takin’ something from this house to get them all riled up and on your scent,” the Mystery Man stated.  “Cause that is exactly what I’m doing.” He tossed the tiny package in his hand and caught it with ease.  “You would like that too, wouldn’t you? Get caught and still get away with it.”

“Not all of us are as suicidal as that,” Hanzo hummed and let his hands move around the base of the glass as he flicked each of the latches keeping the cover and gingerly lifted it up and away from his prize.  He smiled at the easy of this, how there had been no alarm.

Why would there be? The whole collection was worth less than his car. No thief would break into this home and not go for the elaborate jewels or electronics. Of course, he was not an ordinary thief.

The skull pin sat in the second row, buried behind an elaborate pin of a monkey made of gold with diamonds cascading down it’s back. A much more fitting piece for Akande’s collection, but he was not one to stray from the task.

He reached it, ready to take it when he felt the snap of a hand, wrapping tightly around his wrist. “I wouldn’t do that, Honey,” The Mystery Man’s gaze was locked down.  “....You really have no idea what it is that you are goin’ for here, do you?” He mumbled.

Hanzo opened his mouth to answer and felt the impossible silence around them thump along his ears and settle into his stomach. The grip on his wrist tightened. “We need to go,” The man whispered. “They know we are here.” From out of his pocket, he pulled a delicate handkerchief and nabbed the skull pin. Without another word, he wrapped it tightly up before slipping it into his pocket and turned away, his firm grip still on Hanzo’s wrist.

The sound of footfall creaked on the stairs as they moved quietly. Hanzo silently cursed his lack of awareness. He had become distracted by the man guiding him along and must have tripped some sort of silent alarm.

“It was the lights,” The Mystery Man whispered back to him as if reading his mind. “They must have alerted the owner. Idiotic of me, not thinking of that.”

He paused, waiting for the attack.  He could now hear the deafening quiet, the lack of laughter, the music stopped.  It should have been his first sign that something was amiss, and yet still, he persisted with talking to this mystery man. This man that gripped his wrist tight and led him into the deepest corners of the shadows of the penthouse apartment, keeping him low and to the ground.  

His first instinct was to throw him down, to get his grip free and flee. He could manage to retrace his steps out of here and into the night with minimal problems. His first instinct was to preserve himself, but now it wasn’t. A calming force from within told him to stay.

It should have been this man’s instinct as well, to abandon him here and let him take the fall for it all.  If he had wanted, he could have let the police take him, but he didn’t.

Hanzo felt the gloved thumb brush over his bare wrist, petting small circles into his flesh as they maneuvered into the living area. He could see the broad-shouldered outline of a guard as he finished transcending the steps into the dark living area. His gaze flicking around.

“Alpha one, this is Alpha 2, do you copy?” The man whispered into his wrist. There was a pause where Hanzo held his breath. He closed his eyes and imagined the other end of the line, giving orders, telling this behemoth of a man the order to kill on sight.  The Mystery Man’s grip tightened further, keeping him from moving, even if he dared.

“Copy that, heading into the bedroom,” The security agent pulled out a weapon and held it in front of him as he moved slowly closer to them. Hanzo pressed back further into the wall, wishing the shadows would envelop him completely.  

There was a tug on his wrist, a silent order to follow.  Hanzo stayed low, matching the low movements of the Mystery Man as the guard’s back turned towards them.

“Alpha 1, this is Alpha two. We have a disturbance in here. Send backup.”

________

Genji sat up straight, peering through his binoculars as he felt the shift in the party.  The guests stood, huddled together at the corner of the room, a mildly panicked look about them as they milled about.He swung his gaze over, seeing half a dozen guards standing by the top of the staircase, apprehensive and tense. “Something’s happened, Winston,” Genji stated.

In an instant, he dashed, knowing he could easily clear the long jump in his current suit and landed with little difficulty in the slanted glass room of the building. It took little trouble to run up the steep incline of the glass and make it to the concrete helicopter pad above.

“Genji, there is something happening below,” Came Winston’s voice through his com link.  “The guards are retreating back. Someone is in there.”

His heart pounded through his chest as anger boiled within him.  This was meant to be his night off, damn it.  He wanted to be home, in bed. He wanted to be drunk off his ass and ready to pass out. He did not want to be standing in the frigid ice and snow of winter, feeling it pelt down on him for over an hour as they waited for something to finally happen.

Genji kicked at the locked door, easily breaking the hinges as he ran inside the penthouse, just in time to see a man in black hurl one of the guards over his shoulder and body slam him into the ground like it was a rehearsed act. The man let out a loud whoop as he dodged a second guard’s fist, grappling the guard and pulling his downwards, into his own fist hard enough to send blood spilling from an obviously broken nose. He stood up and bounced on the balls of his feet, putting his hands up and awaiting the next attacker.

“Must you be so vulgar?” A second man snarled as another security guard crouched ran at him.  The second man gracefully spun out of the attack and twisted himself along the other’s body, wretching a gun from his hand with one hand while bringing his elbow down hard enough to flatten the man on the ground. The second man was stock as he quickly dismantled the gun with one hand, sending the remains scattered along the ground before he stomped the other man hard, making sure he stayed down.

“What can I say, Sweetheart, you bring out the best in me,” The man in black...no...the Masked Vigilante, that mystery man, launched another bare-knuckled attack on a guard that came near, wavering away from the onslaught and punching him square in the nose.  

The Mystery Man and the Aguma no Kaito moved like water as they beat back guard after guard. Despite the masks and costume, Genji could see a smile on the Demon Thief’s strong face as he watched his partner effortlessly take down another trained guard.

“Can’t go down, honey. Too many are gonna be comin’ up that way,” The Mystery Man turned, giving his partner a wink.

“Got to go up,” The Demon Thief’s gaze turned to the stairs and locked on the Sentai Warrior. He scowled. Genji froze. That intense look, those dark haunting eyes locked him into place and made him forget why he was there. “Company,” He growled out, teeth clenched.

The next few seconds were a blur, both villains moving in sync with one another. The Mystery Man feigned left from his attacker and managed to sidestep away just as the Aguma no Kaito bolted up the stairs, straight at Genji. Genji dodged, just as a strong fist hit made contact. The fist brushed against his side as he fell back against the wall. A second punch came, using the momentum of the first, catching him in ribs and causing him to double over as the air was forced out of his lungs. The third attack he wasn’t able to prepare for, as a knee came up, coordinated to use his momentum against him and collided with the side of his helmet. The thief grabbed the back of his scarf and twisted it around his hand before kicking out the back of his knee and sending him careening down the steps in a heap.

Genji rolled out of the way of the next attack he knew was coming. He had no time to concentrate on the ache in his chest, nor the bruises that must have been forming now. The thief leaped from his perch on the stairs and hit the floor where Genji’s body had been moments before.  

Training. He had to think back to his training. He flipped back to his feet and swiped out, catching the Demon Thief’s ankle with his leg and pulling it out from under the man, sending him crashing to a knee.

His mind left his body as he went on the attack. Genji raised his arms above his head, ready to give the thief a final blow before he could swing himself back up. His brother’s voice echoed in his head, take them out before they have a chance to get you. Fight. Win.

The police would have been called by now. It would not be long for them to arrive at this place. He did not have to do more than keep them entertained here until their arrival, then the police could have them both. “Give up! You are caught!” His shout quickly turned into a yelp as he felt the ground leave him, only to crash into the hard ground moments later, sprawled out as the Mystery Man sat above him, panting heavily and raised a hand to bring it down hard on his helmeted face.

He had not checked where the other attacker was. He lifted his fists up, trying to deflect the punishing blows that landed hard on the helmet. His body ached from the reverberation of every blow. He felt dizzy, unable to breathe.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as the Aguma no Kaito ran up the stairs again, through the broken door and into the freezing, dark night. Another punch rained down on his helmeted face, jarring him back to the man sitting above him. He looked less dignified now, his shirt untucked and wrinkled, his vest missing a button and hung open. Blood dribbled out of his mouth from a split lip as he clenched his teeth and brought down his fist again.

Genji moved quicker this time. He grabbed his wrist and bucked his hips, elbowing hard against his joints to send the Mystery Man off balance. He twisted under him, able to move away and throw him down onto the ground. Genji grappled both of his fists into his hands as the mystery man tried to use his large frame to kick Genji off.  His hat rolled away as he snarled, throwing his head back. The black mask slipped up to his forehead.

Time froze. Genji stared down at the man below him, at the strong jaw and tanned skin. Those angry, whiskey-colored eyes. He hesitated in his attack again, reaching down to push the mask further up his forehead and listened as the man snarled Genji sank back to his heels. “Jess?” He whispered out.

The Mystery Man stopped fighting as he looked up into the masked face before him. His face contorted to one of shock before he gave Genji an undignified shove and knocked the other off him. The mask fell back into place as he snagged the hat from his side and bolted up the stairs, following his partner.

The world spun off its axis as he lurched to his feet. Undignified, he could hear his brother’s voice in his head as he took off after them. Hanzo would have been right too. His form was sloppy and haphazard. He let emotions cloud his judgment in the heat of battle and he had failed. He could feel his lungs tightening up in his chest as he bolted up, after them. “There is nowhere to go!”  he panted as he stepped onto the helipad, looking the two men over. “Let me help you!”

“Seriously,” The man...Jesse... slapped his hat along his knee, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “This was supposed to be an in-n-out job. Why the fuck is this damned idiot here.” He shouted making a wild gesture at Genji as the other thief crouched low and predatory. The snow whipped around them, icing over the concrete helipad. He pointed to the other man. “This is your fault, you know. You brought him here.”

His gaze was hyper-focused, locked on the Mystery Man.  His skin prickled at that voice, the familiar cadence and tone sending an ache deep inside him.  He wanting to reach out and touch him, to see if he was, in fact real. He opened his mouth to shout out again, tell him everything.  They both were trapped. He may have been able to leap his way over the chasm of the buildings, but he possessed a super suit. These were just men.  “There is nowhere to go. Just give up. Please.”

He isn’t given the chance to continue. He can see the next attack coming as the Demon Thief rushed towards him. Genji does not think as he gripped the man’s arms as they near and he rolled his body to the ground, kicking him off.

It was a move he had done countless times sparing with his brother.  His signature move, as he called it. All he needed was to rile Hanzo up enough, just bring him to the edge of not thinking about his move and he could do it.  He could grapple him and flip him overhead. He could use his opponent's momentum to finish the move, kicking them away and launching them into the air. It worked on Hanzo, once sending him out of the ring.

It worked on the Demon Thief as well.

It played out like the climax of a movie, seeing the realization in the man’s masked face as Genji kicked him in the rips and heaved him off his feet, into the air and then he fell. He toppled over the side of the building as was gone.

Genji could hear the blood pounding in his ears as the world spun around him. He felt the bile rise in his throat as sat up and watched the Mystery Man let out a muted scream and lept off in pursuit. He sat alone in the billowing cold.  

The blood drained out of his face. He scrambled forward, floundering as he tried to get his legs to work under him. He killed a man. He watched the fear in his eyes. He threw a man off a building and did nothing to help.

He became mutely aware of something speaking in his ear. He panted heavily. “Winston!”

“-Getting away!”

He nodded. He had to get away. He had to run. To hide…..did he turn himself in? They were thieves. Villains. He could not be held accountable for what happened here...could he?

“They are getting away!” He heard again. Genji scrambled to the edge, watching as a grappling line shot out from the building and a figure swung out, into the darkness of the night.

Relief spread through him as he hung his head and let out a heavy sob. He collapsed to his knees. “I didn’t kill them.”

“No, but they nearly killed you. Genji what were you thinking-”

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder.  Genji twisted, fists up and ready to attack as he looked at the face of a large man in a well-cut suit stood over him, smiling wide. His expression was dark  “You must be the famous Sentai Warrior we have heard so much about. Please, come in.”  A package rested in the man’s other hand, crumpled and battered, but safe with its owner. The thieves must have dropped it in the scuffle.  

Genji moved to his feet. The adrenaline dissipated from his body, leaving him aware again of the cold around him and the ache in his bones. “They got away.”

“You saved my possessions. You, Sentai Warrior, are more capable than the men I hired to protect me. Come in,” He repeated.  “As my guest.”

Winston called again in his ear, telling him to leave. Telling him to get after the two thieves. He disabled the connection.  “It would be an honor Mr-”

“Ogundimu. Akande Ogundimu.”

________  

Jesse grunted as the tether of the grappling hook slowly lowered them along the side of the building down to the ground below. His other hand was wrapped possessively around the middle of the Demon Thief, holding him tight to his body.

“Good catch,” The man finally said, his own arms like a vice around Jesse’s neck.

From this angle, he caught a flash of the spicy scent that clung to the man in his arms. He could feel the ripple of muscle under his clothes and he swallowed. Jesse chuckled and shifted his hold slightly, feeling the strain of the excess weight. Pride overruled discomfort and he pulled the other nearer. “I wasn’t about to just let you fall to your death there, Sugar. That would have been unsportsmanlike.”

The Demon let out a dry laugh, clinging to him tighter.  “I did not anticipate it being quite so slick-” he yelped as the wind picked up, swaying them into the side of the building.

“Ya ain’t afraid of a tiny two hundred foot plummet now are ya?” He teased, letting out another rich chuckle. “Another minute or two and we will be on the ground and you can go along your merry way.”

“After you give me the pin,” came the muffled voice buried in his chest.

He looked down at the man in his arms, those deep, dark eyes and frowned. “You think you are getting that? After I did all the hard work up there? As I see it, I’m the one that nicked it. I’m the one that knows you shouldn’t touch the damn thing and I’m the one that dove off a fucking building to catch your sorry ass. As far as I’m concerned, this is my prize.”

The Demon Thief snorted and shook his head. “Fine. I may have been a little...distracted.”

“Is that what you call it?” Jesse grunted as his feet hit the pavement. He loosened his grapple from the wire and retracted it in. The streets were barren and silent, save for the two of them.  He hooked his thumbs into his belt and leaned forward. “I call it damned stupid. You could have been killed.”

The Demon Thief stood back looking around. “We should be surrounded by the police.” He stated. “I do not hear any sirens.”

Jesse frowned and looked down the street, seeing only the billowing snow under the streetlamps.  “There is no way the cops wouldn’t be prompt. Not for a place like this.” He grabbed the Demon Thief’s and led him around to a back alley.  “Why did you go there?”

“What?”

“Why did you rob them?” Jesse asked again. “I know why I did it, but going up there, tonight, for this?” He pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and thrust the pin out, careful to not touch it. “Do you even know what this is?”

“Poison,” The Demon Thief stated, “I know what it is and why it is. It was an assassin’s tool. It would be covered in poison. The slightest prick would cause the victim to fall dead on the spot. It would be harmless at this point though-”

“I doubt that,” Jesse growled and looked up. There was no reason they shouldn’t still be fleeing for their lives.  His heart raced in his chest as he looked back to the man in front of him, watching as he thrust his chin out, “I ain’t giving it over.”

“I am the one who went there for it.”

“And I’m the one who nicked it,” Jesse restated. It was like talking to a wall. A stubborn ass of a wall. He could admit, it was rather fun to play off someone in a brawl. And it wasn’t like this man wasn’t good looking in his dark blue outfit and that blood red mask, but hot damn if he didn’t get his blood boiling. “Get off then. Shoo.”

The man laughed and stepped forward, into his space. “How is it my fault that you could not keep a hold of your own bounty?”

Jesse didn’t move. He would not give this man an inch.  “Maybe I was too busy saving your sorry ass.”

“Or maybe you were too busy letting the Sentai Warrior punch that pretty face of yours,”  His hand moved up, brushing along his jaw.  He shuttered at the sudden rush of pain through the delicate touch. He flinched away and saw the hungry look in the other’s eye. “It’s a shame to damage something so...formidable.”

He didn’t have a chance to react as the other surged forward, capturing his lips. His heart thudded in his chest as he felt the man press his hard body against his own, strong hands cupping the back of his head and deepening the press of their mouths.

It burned. He tasted of mint and tea and heaven.  Jesse groaned and leaned down into it, gripping the other’s hips tight in his gloved hands. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, fueling the deep fire set inside him as he opened his mouth, inviting the other further in.

And then he was cold. His eyes slowly blinked open and he found the other thief smirking, out of his arms and his reach. He held up the white slip of fabric and wiggled it back and forth, taunting Jesse. “Compensation for your prize.”

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as the man bounded off, into the night. He stood alone on the street, watching the place where he had once been, now alone in the cold.

______

It was exhilarating to be the center of attention. All eyes were on him, the Sentai Warrior as he recounted the details of his evening to the rapt audience.  Some embellishment was in order, of course, as the creme-de-la-creme would be bored with his tales of staking out the place, waiting for something to happen.  It was much more entertaining to say he was patrolling the skyline, like the city’s protector and happened upon a mysterious figure in the night.

He never gave the detail to which mysterious figure in the night he had found, but they were again, enraptured by his account of the evening, ending in the final, glorious battle where he flung the Demon Thief off of the room along with the Mystery Man.

The crowd burst into applause again. Scores of fine looking people in the fanciest close Genji had ever seen crowded nearer to him, wanting to touch. To talk. To feel. Never in his life had he felt so alive. So wanted.

“Enough, enough,” Akande chuckled and settled the group down.  “He is now our honored guest. Please, give him space.” His strong arm settled on Genji’s shoulders, thicker than his thigh and rippling with muscle.  

Genji smiled at his host, despite knowing the other could never see it. “They are like a pack of wolves to the prey, I am afraid,” Akande continued, leading him away from the main center of the party. “We are not used to such excitement. Especially from something as dangerous as those two.”

“I hope I did not damage your possessions, Mr. Ogundimu,” Genji stated.

“It is no harm, Warrior, Your first priority was the people here. I must say, your reputation as our city’s protector is well deserved.And it is good to see someone like you here now, someone looking to protect all citizens in need.”

Genji nodded, “Of course I would. Why would I not?”

Akande shook his head and led him along, “In the past, there has been a disconnect in this city. Brother against brother. Man against machine. It has always been here, where one group fights against another, forcing a deeper chasm between the classes. The previous heroes we had did that.  They were not heroes to all, they were heroes to some.”

Genji nodded, listening to the man next to him.

“It is not that these were bad men, no. They were good men, looking to do good things for the world.  They were warped into this same mold that every other citizen of this city is. But you, my friend, you are different. You save my guests. You saved me home and my things. You saved me from those looking to harm me.” He stopped in front of a wall of photographs and pulled out the battered, brown box.  “That man tonight, he was looking to take something from me in retaliation. He sees me as a threat to this city, just because of my status in life. It is not fair.”

Jesse. Not that man, it was Jesse.  His mind flitted back, looking at the angry face of someone who once cared for him.  “What did he take?” He asked

“Attempted to take,” Akande corrected. He opened the box and pulled out a simple, silver pocket watch that dangled delicately on a matching silver chain.  Genji frowned and leaned in.  “I bought this at an estate sale a year ago,” Akande explained.  “It is simple in design but is special.  The watchmaker was a brilliant artist. He created many of the pieces you see in my home, but he started here, as a simple, elegant watchmaker.”

Genji let his eye travel around the room, drinking in the larger than life murals that adorned the walls, gears, and rivets in gold and bronze fit snugly together created a rich tapestry of color and invention. “I see.”

“Many people thought I was being selfish with purchasing this lot. As well as many others. They see me as a bully that puts money before the individual, but I tell you this. I am not those things. I am a man with a want to bring peace to the city I live in. As do you, Warrior.”

Genji nodded again, feeling compelled by this man’s voice. He was strong and commanding, but not aggressive. “Shit happens,” He mumbled.  “It’s a thing, but like...someone’s house.”  His eyes traveled back to the photographs, drinking in the sight of Akande Ogundimu surrounded by brilliantly dressed people at different events.  He recognized presidents and singers. Artists and diplomats.  He felt in awe to stand near such an influential man.

Akande chuckled. “Shit does, indeed, happen. I am glad you understand. You are a true hero, Warrior.”

Genji felt his eyes gloss over as he read the inscription on one of the photos, thanking Akande for giving their organization the money to fund clean water and another and another.  “You aren’t a bad man, those people shouldn’t try and take you down just because you have more than they do.”  

“That wasn't always the case. I worked hard. From the bottom up.” He pointed to a photograph of three people holding deep rich wine in their hands as they smiled, the true focus of the photograph. Behind them stood a smaller boy in his early teens. A deep frown was set on his face as he stared at the camera with intense, black eyes.

Genji was drawn in. He leaned forward more, looking at the three around him and felt his heart flutter hard as his eyes settled on the man nearest Akande. His thick, black hair and stern piercing eyes stared at the camera. Even here, decades through time and worlds apart, he could hear as clear as day the rich, deep laughter of the man. His finger moved up, pressing against the glass. “Who is this man?”

“Him?” Akande blinked and leaned forward slightly. “Hiroto Shimata.” He stated flatly.  “He was a mentor to me when I was young. Someone like me, looking to help out those in need.  He was a strong man. A good man. A shame really what happened to him, gods rest his soul.”

Genji swallowed. Too much. Today had been too much.

“He was murdered, about fifteen or so years ago. His own nephew,” he shook his head. “A real shame.”

__________

Hanzo hummed as he exited his shower, feeling more alive and alert than he had in weeks. The cold numbness of the evening was washed away with the sweat from his skin and it left him feeling exhilarated.  

His phone chirped and he looked down, smiling at the familiar number before answering it. “Jesse,” He purred out, his voice huskier as he entered his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

There was a hitch in his breath before he heard the man speak. “Damn, Darlin’ you sure sound good after a long night.”  

Hanzo smiled and dropped onto his makeshift bed, stretching out his toes and back as the air mattress under him shifted.  “Long night?”

There was another low groan from the other end, then the thud of boots hitting the floor. “You have absolutely no idea. First, my mother called and practically threatened me with bodily harm unless I go over soon for dinner. Then there were the things I had to do today for work,” He could picture Jesse now, raking a hand through his far too long hair as he dropped into his favorite chair at home.  “Member how I had to work late tonight?”

Hanzo hummed an affirmative, looking over at the door. He heard nothing.  

“That new guy I told you about from a few weeks ago, the one with the big ideas and shitty attitude. He showed up again. And just as I was finishing up.”

“Did you tell him to go home?” Hanzo mumbled out,

“Wouldn’t take it for an answer. He had to get himself all tied up in my business. Cause a huge setback and distraction to everyone.” Jesse paused and let out another long sigh. “You don’t need to hear this, you must’ve had a long night too. Is your brother home yet?” 

“No. I am alone,” Hanzo smiled widely.  “All alone. And bored.” He played idly with the tie to his robe.  

“Oh,” Jesse’s tone hitched up. “I see.”

Hanzo smirked. “I don’t think you do see is the problem,” He smirked as the wicked thought came to his mind and he sat up, pressing his back against the wall. The robe slipped down his shoulder a fraction, exposing himself a little more as he held his phone up and snapped a quick photo of himself.  He looked down at the picture, of how his lips were slightly pouty, even as he smirked and how his hair fell across his shoulders, wet but still delectable. He sent it off without a second thought.

He could hear Jesse’s breathing on the other end of the line, hot and heavy followed by a low groan. “Baby, I was ready to kick off to bed. Look at what you're doin’ to me.”   

“I’m afraid I don’t know what I am doing to you, Mr. McCree. That seems to be our problem here tonight.”

“Takin’ pictures like that of yourself, all hot and bothered like it is nothing in the world..” Jesse grunted and Hanzo felt his face flush. “Makes a man do lewd things, you know?”

“Oh dear, Mr. McCree, I hope you are not thinking those lewd things about me.  I just thought you would like to be remembered what I look like.” Hanzo teased. He laid back on his bed and reached down, adjusting himself as he spoke.

He bit his lip to keep from asking the man to come over. To spend the night.  Genji, at this rate, would not be home.  It was already nearly morning anyway. But the roads were now treacherous. And by the time he actually made it there, the mood would have been gone.

“Baby, I am having all kinds of impure thoughts right now, and you are the starring attraction in my mind,” He heard the grunt from the other end of the line and felt his body stir to life.  

Hanzo closed his eyes, picturing Jesse clearly as the other reclined further back, into his chair and did not even bother undressing further than necessary.  “What are you wearing?” He asked and cursed himself at the cliched nature of the question.

Jesse let out a huff of laughter and he heard a shuffling on the other end of the phone.  Hanzo let his hand dip under his robe, slowly stroking up his length.  He swallowed back the nerves as his phone dinged. “Not good with words right now. Figured I was a better shower than a teller.”

Hanzo felt the flush creep up his cheeks and down his neck as he put the phone on speaker. “Jesse McCree, if you sent me a picture of your dick, I swear.”  It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Anticipation coiled within him as he dragged down the menu and opened his text messages.

He gasped and bit the back of his hand at the sight.  It was, indeed a full on picture of his lower anatomy. He was large. It was all Hanzo could think as he fixated on the image in front of him. Jesse’s long fingers wrapped around the base, showing off not only his impressive length but the girth.

“You there?”

Hanzo gasped and began to fist himself faster. “Holy shit, McCree.” He arched off his bed, making a show for no one but himself.

Jesse let out another low groan, “So you approve?”

“Fuck yes,” Hanzo babbled, reaching his other hand down to roll his testicles in his hand.  He felt the coil tighten in his belly. At this rate, he would not be able to last long, not that he cared.  McCree sounded just as fucked out on the other end of the line, grunting in time with his own pace.  

“Wanna see more, Baby,” He panted. “Fuck, I need to see you….Gimme something, Doll.”  His voice was breathy, barely above a whisper.

Hanzo moaned, rolling onto his front, pressing himself into the cool mattress below him. “You need me?” He asked, fumbling to find the camera.

“Yes,” McCree whined.  “I’m not gonna last much longer. Gimme something.”

Hanzo flung the remainder of the robe off and set the phone up, flipping to the front-facing camera as he spread his legs out beneath him as he snapped another photo, sending it off before flipping back, onto his back and spread his legs wide. His fingers trailed down his groin and over his balls and taint. He let a digit press against his dry hole, not penetrating, just enough to give a little pressure, a tease of what could come before reaching up to cup his balls back into his hand.  He rolled his hips.

His mind wandered, focusing on the deep moan of Jesse next to him as his eyes closed. His hand moved slowly, letting his finger roll over his head and picture it as the other’s hand.  He could feel those dark whiskey-colored eyes on him, pulling him to his peak.  

He could picture it clearly, Jesse, kneeling in front of him on the bed, his strong hands roaming over his body as he brought himself to the edge. Featherlight kisses left along his skin as they traveled lower and lower, but not touching where he needed it the most. Jesse, teasing him. Edging him along, making him beg for release. Beg for completion.

“O...oh god!” He cried out, biting down on his lower lip as he worked himself with both hands. His fantasy shifted to dark leather gloves, pulling apart his legs, spreading him out for his eyes only. Not bothering to undress in the fury of the moment. Pressing into him without reserve, claiming him. Consuming him.

Dark eyes were hidden behind a black mask. A frightening, possessive smirk as the voice in his ear whispered wicked promises.

Lights danced in front of his eyes as his toes curled under him and his back arched off the bed. The world exploded and thick ropes of white painted along his chest as he moaned deeply, loudly before collapsing back onto the bed.

His hand slowly worked, pulling at the strands of his orgasm, watching as he milked his body of the last remains of pleasure before over sensation clouded his vision.

“Damn,” He heard Jesse curse on the other end of the phone. He was pulled back, into the present. “That sounded intense. Wish I had been there to see it. ” His voice was a low growl.

Hanzo panted, eyes wide as he ran his fingers through the mess left on his chest.  He nodded slowly, “Me too.”

“I wish I could stay up longer, talk to you more, but I got an early day tomorrow,”  Jesse mumbled. Silence fell between them as Hanzo swallowed again, making a noise of agreement.  “That was fun,” Jesse mumbled again.

“Yeah,” Hanzo agreed.

“Call me tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” Hanzo bid him goodnight and laid back on the bed, shivering now in the coldness of his room.  Jesse McCree was a good man, his brain stated. He was strong and kind and had never treated him as anything but an equal.

‘But,’ The voice in his brain whispered.  ‘Do you want that? Or do you want danger? Adventure?’

His hand ghosted over his limp cock, shivering as the images of that mystery man surfaced again. In the heat of the moment, with another man on the phone, he had thought of another. A man he went out of his way to kiss earlier that night. A man that challenged him.

It was too dangerous.

__________

At three thirty in the morning, Genji was surprised to see the lights still on at home. It was not how he had wanted to end the night, fleeing from a party as panic settled in his skull.  He had tried to find refuge somewhere else but found Hana’s phone had been turned off (or he had been ignored) and the Shambali temple closed.

Winston had thankfully not left his side once since he started his journey home. Initially, he berated him with words of honor and responsibility, but quickly his friend lost momentum as he saw what must have been a tired look in his eyes. Slowly, the tiny gorilla climbed onto Genji’s back and listened as a rush of emotions came out of him at once.

Jesse and Jack and Gabe came tumbling out of his mouth in a vomiting rush of words. Faded memories of an uncle long dead...and the fear of who put him in his grave.

Winston had led him along, until they found refuge in the old library, huddled in the dark next to an ancient computer.  Akande had been more than helpful, explaining the plight of the now-defunct Shimada family. The misfortune that followed on the heels of the young heir. First, his parents die while he was near, then his uncle and finally his younger brother. The internet solidified his fears.

Genji felt pummeled over and over with each new token of information. Akande had been close to Hiroto Shimada. The older man mentoring him. Helping him go to college and achieve his dreams, only to have them all ripped away one fateful night when the cursed Shimada heir took his anger out on the unsuspecting man.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, really. Hanzo had never been good at controlling his temper.  Why then should it leave such a dark mark around his heart?

It left him no choice in the bitter winter evening than to go home with the hope that Hanzo would already be in bed and he would not need to think of things further.

It seemed now, that was not the case. He looked over to see his brother lounging on the couch, the television on and a book in his hands. He frowned and dropped his things by the door as the other rose.  Winston stayed back, out of view, huddled up inside his coat and pretending to not exist.

“Genji, I wasn’t expecting-”

“What happened to Uncle Hiroto?”  He meant to say he was going to bed. The plan had been to  not say a word about his night. Winston had coached him on it, stating there was no use instigating a discussion this late at night and with more questions than answers.

Instead, he was greeted with the wide-eyed look of horror from his brother.  He felt the floodgate open and a torrent of emotions spilled out, long since dormant inside him. He repeated himself. “Uncle Hiroto, Hanzo. What happened to him?”

Hanzo felt himself tumble as the world shifted under him. The blood drained from his face as he locked eyes with the younger man. Suddenly, the words failed him. “I-”

“Why did you kill him, Hanzo?”


	8. The truth revealed? It is not as easy as it seems.

The tense clack of fingers on the keyboard echoed off of the bare walls. The only noise in the empty apartment. Winston frowned at the uncomfortable nature of it all.  What he wanted to do was slip in his earbuds and drown out the imposing silence with some Vivaldi or Chopin, but at this point, it was far too much of a risk.

 

Hanzo was not home, he had left before dawn and given his recent schedule, he would not be back until well after the sun had set and left Winston sitting in the darkness. For him, stealth was still needed, especially if Hanzo happened to come home unexpectedly. And despite his size, stealth did not come naturally to the simian.  

 

It was not like Hanzo was in the habit of breaking his routine. In fact, over the past week, his schedule became even more routine. It became even more rigid and balance  It had been like that for the better part of two weeks. Hanzo quietly shuffling around the apartment as a zombie, moving to sit near the windows and look out with a cup of tea in his hands, waiting and watching until the brew grew far too cold to drink without hardly ever drinking it.  Sometimes, he would forget the packet of tea in it and let it over seep before taking a sip of the exceedingly bitter drink with a grimace.

 

Winston would hang back in the shadows, watching him slowly through the crack in Genji’s door and waiting for any change within the man before detailing a report to send to Genji about his brother’s appearance before he would crawl into Genji’s closet to sleep.  

 

It felt fruitless to even try anymore.  Genji never relied on those messages he sent.  And it was obvious Genji was not replying to anything his brother sent either.  The only blessing was that Genji did reply to every other kind of message Winston sent.  He went on patrols, asked him questions about classes, informed him on whose couch he was sleeping that night, usually it was Hana, though he had been alternating now between Lena and Lucio. Winston suspected that his friends were growing weary of his presence, but he was safe.

 

Winston paused and looked up from the glow of the screen in front of him as he heard footfall on the stairs. They continued on without pause, heading up another flight of stairs going even further above them. Winston returned to the report in front of him, satisfied it was not Hanzo.

 

The Demon Thief had made several more appearances since Genji’s departure, though the Sentai Warrior was never the one to make contact with him.  It was only after the fact that he would be captured on video or seen by some passerby. And yet there was still not enough information on the thief to fill out even a page of notes.  There were only a few things that he could be sure on: The thief was male, between the ages of eighteen and fifty, and between 5’5” and 6’5”. He wore dark clothes, Japanese in origin with a homemade mask, this, of course, meant nothing about the man’s race, which again left him with very little to go on.  

 

The thief had skills not common to most people. But then, most thieves did acquire skills that most normal citizens did not have. It showed with his ability to scale buildings without any gear, and the fact that he was able to disappear into the darkness without a trace. But his skills were not flawless. He was still often caught on camera.

 

The man was an enigma. How could someone be that skilled and yet still so….amature?

 

The chime of the phone was a blessed reprieve.  He shut the lid to his computer and grabbed the phone, swinging his legs off the bed and wandered into the kitchen to get something for dinner.  He had to be more careful now that Genji was not here. Hanzo seemed aware of every last sugar packet in the house, often Genji took the blame for the extra food consumption and Hanzo never questioned it.

 

Now though...

 

He looked down at his phone as he slowly peeled an orange. ‘Going to Zenyatta’s’

 

Good.

 

Winston quickly ate as he typed back a message with his toes, thankful for the ambidexterity that came with being a prime ape. He included a short detail about Hanzo’s comings and goings for Genji’s knowledge, in case he wanted or needed fresh clothes. He made sure to add in that he spent his day dusting and cleaning the apartment for them both.

 

Winston dropped the phone and moved around the kitchen area, deciding quickly that he needed more than just fruit. He picked out freeze-dried noodles before moving to the fridge and pulling out one of the unsweetened teas Hanzo was fond of.  

 

Hanzo was the pickier eater of the two brothers, Winston found. Genji was almost like a garbage disposal, eating whatever was placed in front of him but not before drowning it in whatever bottle of sauce was nearest to him.  Hanzo though tried to eat ‘pure’. He turned over the bottle of tea in his hand, reading over the short list of ingredients. It made eating while Genji was gone a much healthier experience for Winston, at the very least.

 

Being caught was just as detrimental as Genji’s absence.  Hanzo was also more observant than his brother. Already there had been comments under his breath about missing jars of peanut butter and the fact that they were living on a budget that did not include snacking at all hours of the night. It became prudent to mimic what Hanzo had eaten the night before, just in case the older brother found the trash laying around. He didn’t want Hanzo realizing that anyone else was living here. Or worse, thinking that Genji had returned.

 

Winston leaned against the counter as he placed the kettle on the stove and waited for the water to boil for his noodles. He twisted open the bottle of tea and drank it down in two gulps as his mind wandered back to that winter party and the fallout.  

 

Genji had overstayed at the party, much to Winston’s chagrin. He had warned Genji to not get too involved in those things.  People would want to ask him questions, of course, but Genji had a way of running his mouth. Winston feared that one day someone would find out too much. Through binoculars, Winston watched as the Sentai Warrior rubbed elbows with the elite of the city. The two thieves had escaped into the snowy night after their daring plummet off the side of the skyscraper and now Genji was the prized guest of honor, it seemed.

 

The large host of the party slung his broad arm over Genji’s shoulders and easily maneuvered him around the party, showing him various things and confining him into the inner circle of his patrons. Something had happened that night. Genji returned to Winston’s post somber and quiet. Together they descended the building without a word.  Even though Winston’s reprimand, Genji stayed silent.

 

He assumed the young man had been berated. They had mocked the green ninja and laughed at his apparent lack of decorum.  It was not the first time Winston had seen similar things happen. He spoke quietly then, telling Genji to ignore their cruel words and that he was better than that.

 

It wasn’t until they were street level that the torrent started.

 

Genji yanked the mask off and gasped deeply for air, tossing the mask like it was nothing into the snow-covered street.  His face was red and soaked with sweat as he sank to his knees. Winston just had to watch as the boy sobbed out and clutched to his knees and wretched. His costume melted away, back into his jeans and shirt as he clawed at the fabric, his brown eyes searching for Winston. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he sobbed.

 

His words were garbled. Winston could barely understand anything beyond the names that came flooding out of his mouth as hot tears streamed down his face.  He spoke frantically of Jack and Gabe as if the memories would leave his head forever if he did not confess now. He spoke of how they rescued him, only to be killed without his knowledge. How he never went to their funeral. He didn’t even know where they were buried. He spoke as if they would have been ashamed of him not knowing what happened, how now, that very night, he had learned about their misfortunate deaths and how he should have been a more dutiful son.

 

He spoke of a brother that was not Hanzo. A brother he had lost and how he had failed him as well. How his brother was in trouble and now, he worried he could never rekindle that relationship. How he spent too much time trying to save a different relationship. He worried that was not worth the effort anymore.

 

Winston was left kneeling by his side, hopeless. His large hand placed on the young man’s shoulder with the hope of giving him some semblance of comfort, though he knew it would be inadequate. He listened as the rush of words hiccuped through Genji as everything warped together, His thoughts as chaotic as his words.

 

“I think Hanzo killed my uncle,” He finally whispered out, wiping away his mouth with the back of his hand.  His chest rose and fell a few more beats before he looked at Winston, his eyes shined with the threat of fresh tears.  “What do I do?”

 

The honesty of the question left Winston without words. How could he do to rectify this? He…He was not good with emotion, not the way that Genji was.  Winston searched himself for the correct answer. What was he to do?

 

Research was always where he kept his faith. Facts were honest. They would not try and harm you, nor did they provide shelter from the storm, but there was comfort in knowing the truth. He offered to help Genji wade through the stories that he had heard that night and find the validity that existed within.  People lied. Facts did not.

 

The public library was closed, but breaking the lock was easy work for the ninja warrior that night. They found themselves seated at the bank of ancient computers while a soft blue glow encased the marble flooring, illuminating the stacks of books behind them in a heavenly bloom.

 

Hiroto Shimada was not difficult to find. A quick search online brought up article after article about the man. Emigrating from Japan with his older brother, he was already independently wealthy and well educated. Never married, but his free time was used to work at multitudes of international charitable organizations. His name appeared, alongside his brother’s, near the top of many old doner pages. Hiroto Shimada even had an entire wing of Summit Academy for Boys named after him (after what must have been a very generous donation, of course)

 

Winston felt his jaw clench tighter and tighter the deeper he looked into this man.  He spent his free time teaching disenfranchised youths leadership skills, going so far as to take the best and the brightest of the program and hiring them into the Shimada Group as low-level workers.  Some of the bigger success stories still existed on the Shimada Group’s web page, periodically being updated when another person climbed higher on the social ladder. The man’s legacy continued on, even after death.

 

Genji clasped his hands in front of him, staring blankly at the news article in front of him. An online article that lasted for no more than two paragraphs. It was vague, to say the least. Hiroto Shimada had apparently been attacked in his own home. Nothing had been stolen. The two children inside escaped. There was no other information on who had done it or the condition of the children.  

 

Genji’s throat bobbed. He swallowed heavily and frowned.  “That was me, Winston,” He shivered, but not from the cold. The lack of emotions in his words troubled him.  “Hanzo and me, we were in that apartment. Someone killed my uncle,” He was silent as his head dropped down to his crossed arms. His shoulders sank.  “I think it was Hanzo.”

 

“The man had to have enemies,” Winston stated, turning off the computer and shoving things back into Genji’s bag.  It would do no more good to dwell on the article.“He was human. Someone had to not like him-”

 

“Hanzo didn’t like him,” Genji frowned deeper and sat back up. His fingers clenched tightly. He brought his hands to his forehead and pressed away from the pressure headache.  “He never liked living with our uncle. I remember that. He never liked Hiroto.” Silence fell between them again as Genji took another long breath. “He was our legal guardian after...my mother and father died in a car accident and Hiroto was there for us when no one else was. He didn’t have to take us in.”

 

Winston hummed. A man who gave that much to youth organizations would, of course, be a perfect fit for two young children. But there was a difference between opening a checkbook and actually giving love and support.  

 

“I don’t remember much from back then, but I think he was nice.  He gave me a toy train,” Genji’s voice sounded far off as he spoke between his clenched hands.  “At their funeral, he gave me a toy train. I remember sitting and playing with it for hours in the chapel. He was a good man, Winston. He didn’t have enemies.”

 

Attacked in his home without anything being stolen. The man had an enemy.  “There has to be a 9-1-1 on record,” He started slowly. “Give me time and I will track it down. It is….old, but the incident report has to still exist. We can find out the answers, but not tonight,” His hand fell onto Genji’s shoulder again. “Let’s go home.”

 

Genji stood then, swinging Winston onto his back before dredging back out into the blizzardy night. The temperature had dropped again as the flakes turned into pellets of ice that pummeled them as they trudged back through the empty streets. Snow insulated against sound, leaving them trapped in the silence of winter. His arms wrapped tighter around Genji’s shoulders, trying to give him comfort, even if it was just slight.  There had to be a reasonable explanation for what happened.

 

He had made the plan then, whispering it into Genji’s ear as he walked.  Enter the apartment without a word. It was past three in the morning and anything said that early in the morning would not have the desired outcome. There would be no attack. No threat to him. Hanzo loved and cared for him. They were brothers, after all.

 

There would be no need to ask him about his involvement until they gathered more information.  One bad party and half a newspaper article did not lead to truth. They would script out how to approach Hanzo.

 

Genji, apparently, had other plans in mind.

 

“How could you?” His voice cracked as he threw his coat to the floor. Fresh hot tears rolled down his cheeks. Winston immediately fell off him, backing away into the comforting recesses of the hall where he would remain unseen. Hanzo stayed seated on the couch, his hand clutching at the cushion tightly enough that Winston could see his knuckles going white.  

 

Genji, who would laugh his way out of being hit head-on by a car, who never allowed himself to stay glum for more than a few minutes before forcing himself to bounce back to his normal, jovial self-stood rigid in the hall. His breath ragged as he watched for his brother’s reaction.

 

The elder Shimada stayed motionless except for the slight bob in his throat.  Slowly, his hand released the back of the couch and he stood, his eyes never breaking from Genji’s  “How-”

 

“Just tell me it isn’t true,” Genji’s lower lip warbled slightly as the plea came out, his voice shattering the reserve within him.  “Tell me you didn’t slaughter him.”

 

Hanzo’s eye fell away. His jaw clenched tight and he said nothing.

 

They stood like that for minutes--hours--neither moving. Finally, Genji shifted. He nodded and lifted up his bag. “I see.”

 

Hanzo made no move to stop him as the younger turned and slammed the door behind him.  He did not move as the heavy footfalls stomped down the stairs and back onto the street. He didn’t move a muscle until finally, slowly and as graceful as a dance, Hanzo’s knees quaked and he crashed to the floor, face buried in his arms as he fell into a heap. Still, he made no noise. There was no twin wail like Winston has heard from Genji. No tiny sniffle or moan. Just silence.

 

Winston turned away from his thoughts as the kettle began to whistle, removing it from the heated coil of the stove and turning it off before pouring just enough into the foam noodle cup.  That was the thing he found about Hanzo now that he was here with him alone. The man did not deny a thing. He had not lied to Genji, though he never explained his actions.

 

Further research got Winston very little else about the elder brother.  Their parents, of course, had been killed in the exact way Genji had described it.  The police report of the incident was public record. Sojiro Shimada and his wife Reika lost control of their car after a weekend away. The car crashed at 11:48 PM. The adults were killed instantly on impact. The two children in the car survived with minimal injury. They had been transported to the hospital and were under observation until next of kin could arrive.  He saw the diagram of where everyone was seated, Reika in the back driver's side, her husband in control of the car. Young Hanzo had been seated in the passenger seat while Genji had been in the back.

 

Winston sighed and carted his meager meal back to Genji’s room, intent to continue his research into Hiroto Shimada.  The records of his death were harder to obtain, he found. Nothing was made open to the public past the tiny reports he had found earlier. No information on his attackers, who was inside his apartment at the time or the boys that lived with him could be found. It seemed he would need to go a little deeper than expected, but for Genji it was necessary. He just hoped that it would give him some peace, whatever it was he uncovered.

 

________

 

Jesse paused as he looked up at the cute little cookie cutter house on the end of the street as he stepped out of his truck, his foot crunching in the sticky snow.  He took a long, slow breath and shut his truck door as quietly as possible as to not alert the family within. There was something to be said about skipping half a year's worth of weekend meals and family holidays that made it extremely awkward to try and come in, even when invited.  

 

Sure he had gone out of his way to see Reeha. He would pick her up and drop her off, but Ana and Rein were a different matter altogether.  It wasn’t like it was a conscious decision to just stop coming over. It started with just one missed cookout, followed by another and another until it became too awkward to try and make excuses for his absence.  

 

Ana made it clear that skipping dinner was not an option this time.  He had an obligation as a dutiful son to show up at least once, especially after missing Christmas morning, which was upsetting to the family as a whole. Ana laid the guilt on thick with that one, even after he made the argument that it wasn’t like it even really mattered. Ana and Fareeha didn’t even celebrate Christmas. She had been prepared for that excuse though.  Reinhardt did celebrate Christmas. And he missed spending time with Jesse and dealt him the final blow with “You know how he feels about the holidays”.

 

Which led down the road to another fight.  And another. Until he finally relented and said he would come over. He would wipe his schedule clean and come over for dinner.

 

He was pulled out of his thoughts as the golden glow of the inside splayed over the white fresh now.  “Jesse, Habibi, you made it!”

 

Jesse felt himself relax the moment her strong voice washed over him. He moved to her in several quick steps and engulfed her in a tight embrace.  “Ana,” He sighed. Spiced chai clung to her clothes, making her smell more like home. More like the place he wanted to stay. He remembered how strong her arms were, how they held him through the roughest patch of his life.  He was twice her size and yet, her arms felt more powerful than a vice. Instantly he felt sixteen again. “I almost thought you would not come again,” She pulled back and cupped his cheek in her hand as she frowned. “You stopped shaving.”

 

Jesse rolled his eyes dramatically as he stepped into her warm house. He immediately kicked off his boots and hung up his hat.   “You talk to me about that, but your husband’s the one that looks like a bear.”

 

“Better a bear than whatever you are. He keeps his trimmed and neat. How do you even manage this?” Ana frowned.  “And your eyes are so dark and puffy. When was the last time you ate? Are you sleeping enough? Why do you keep taking those early mornings and late night jobs?”

 

He smiled at the constant bombardment of questions, shaking his head and settled on answering the most benign of the queries.  “I ate at noon, Ma. I knew I was coming over here and Rein cooks for a small army so I came with an appetite.”

 

Ana frowned and looked him over with her steely gaze, her long white hair covering the scarred and blind eye.  Even with half her vision stripped away, she still was frightening when caught in her gaze. “It is nearly nine at night. Why wait so long to eat? You know Reinhardt would not mind.”

 

“Really? Being the only other man in this house I figured Rein would want me at my peak.”

 

“You speak as if Fareeha had no appetite of her own,” Ana huffed and walked past him, into her plush living room and dropped onto the couch, folding her legs under her. She did not look back, instead silently insisting that McCree follow her. He did so willingly and dropped into the chair opposite her and tried to avoid her intense gaze.  “You are no longer sixteen, Jesse. You are not a bottomless stomach that refuses to put on any weight.”

 

He felt the creeping dread of the past crawl down his neck, heating his flesh. “Aw, Ma,” He groaned and fell back.  “I ain’t a scrawny kid anymore. I can feed myself when I want and need.”

 

“I only worry,” She stated, running a hand over the silk scarf around her neck.  “It is a mother’s job to do so. Relentlessly.”

 

He was about to open his mouth and make a comment about how he didn’t need a mother anymore when he was saved by the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the stairs, followed by that loud, booming baritone. “Mein Schatz, where have you gotten to?”

 

Ana had the decency to giggle at the endorsement and waved. “In here, my love. Look who came to visit us finally. And stay for dinner” She motioned at McCree with a delicate hand. “That is unless he decided that he needed to take on even more work than what was necessary and drove all the way out here to break an old woman’s heart.”

 

“Ma’am, you were shot in the face and told the doctor who was treating you to kindly shove a needle through his dick when he asked you to say your final goodbyes to everyone. My comin’ and goin’ ain’t got nothin’ on your heart.” He smiled and looked back to Reinhardt.

 

He rather liked Fareeha’s stepfather.  He was jovial and kind. He fed Jesse whenever he was hungry. He never pushed or argued.  Most importantly, he was good for Ana. Her literal polar opposite. Where Ana excelled at hiding her true feelings, a skill she picked up as an undercover cop, her life partner wore his openly and freely. And now he could see the plain hurt on the large man’s face as he looked between the two.  “Well,” He started. “We must respect Jesse and the choices he makes. I will just set the table for two then.”

 

Sonofabitch.  Jessed felt his head hang.  “It was a joke, Rein. I am here. I ain’t got nowhere to be and I came here for dinner.”  Already he knew it was going to be a long night.

 

______

 

The heavy beat of the bass pounded through the cool brick wall and into Genji’s overheated back.  He pressed further into the brick, trying to mold himself though and back into the warm club with swaying, heated skin.  Sometime in the night, he had lost his coat and now he looked at the brown slush of muddy snow, trying to convince himself he was overheated.

 

He wanted to go back in there, take a few more shots of hard liquor masked as a fruity drink. He wanted to meet some nameless stranger with a nice face and a warm bed for the evening.  He wanted to feel good about himself again. Instead, he stood outside this damned shitty club next to a dumpster that smelled of vomit and rotting meat, nursing the cigarette slowly and wishing for an answer to come to him.

 

He exhausted all his friend’s places over the last two weeks.  Hana had obviously had enough of having him lounging around and politely asked him to leave. Lena’s sorority was not as kind though, not wanting a man hanging around their house. He could not blame them.  He wouldn’t want a strange guy hanging around either.

 

Zenyatta….he had not even tried.  

 

Guilt welled inside him every time he thought about going to the monk.  His instinct was to call him and pour out all his thoughts and fears, but shame kept him from reaching out.  Friendships were meant to be a back and forth, a give and take. Currently, it felt like he was taking and taking from the omnic without helping him in any way.

 

Zenyatta did not need to pull Genji out of another rut. He did not need to bother.

 

Genji peered up at the blurred neon sign and watched the lights dance in the falling snow.  He blinked a few times as the sign wavered and twisted to get his eyes back into focus. The bass from inside transitioned into another loud, pounding song that hit Genji just behind the eyeballs.  His stomach lurched.

 

“Fuck,” He let out a soft groan and folded himself forward, holding his head in an attempt to get his head to stop the terrible queasiness that gurgled in his stomach.  He should have eaten before going out. He should not have downed four of those sweet, strawberry drinks in less than an hour.

 

He should not have caused a scene which got him IDed and kicked out for being underaged.

 

He ran a hand over his face and pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes hard enough that stars formed in front of his vision.  He leaned his head against the brick wall and let out another sigh, bringing the cigarette back to his lips and took a final, long draw before throwing it aside.  He looked down at his hands and saw the smeared black eyeliner. He was too drunk. And now he looked like a raccoon.

 

He needed to move. He needed to not spend the rest of the nice sitting in what was logically urine.

 

“Oi,” A voice called out from the opposite end of the alley in almost a whisper, if that person had no idea what a whisper actually sounded like.  Genji tilted his head to the side and squinted, trying to catch a clear glimpse of the owner of the voice. “Think someone got knifed.”

 

“Naw, Just a drunk,” Another voice said back. It was deeper. Gruffer.  Genji groaned and brought his hand up and ran a hand through his greasy hair.

 

“Shh!” The first one hissed out. His voice was high in pitch, erratic. “He’ll hear you!”

 

“Not like he’ll fight back, Jamie. He’s wasted.”

 

“Oi!”  The scrawny one, Jamie hissed out.  “He can hear. Code names! I’m Rat, yer Hoggy.”

 

Genji leaned forward and squinted. The pair stood just in front of the streetlight, shrouding them both in darkness. Their silhouettes were distinct. The first was a hulking mass man. His shoulders hunched forward and taking up most of the alleyway.  Beside him was his counterpart, the owner of the first voice, a scrawny man whose hands were shoved deep into his cut off pants.

 

Wonderful. He was going to be robbed on top of everything else.

 

Genji began to fumble with the clasp of his watch and called out. “Look, it’s all I got. I got no cash or credit cards, I was here to pick someone up because I am poor as shit. If we could make this quick, that would be grand.” He put on his most brilliant smile.

 

The hulking figure towered over him as he neared.  He let out a short huff of air and turned to his companion. “What’cha think?”

 

“It’s a nice watch,”  The smaller one, Jamie knelt in front of him and frowned, squinting as he leaned forward, getting into Genji’s face. He was young, around Genji’s age if he had to take a guess.  Lanky and lean with wild, blonde hair that shot out from under the dark blue ski hat, the only article of winter clothes on the man. He wore a tattered, stained black shirt with the name of some indecipherable metal band on the front.  He stank of stale beer and pizza. His eyes were on Genji’s watch with a hungry look. “We could hock it for a meal at least.”

 

The smell of pepperoni wafted off the other’s breath. His stomach lurched.  Genji turned his head away and swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. “Just take the watch, man. I don’t got anything else on me.” He thrust his arm under the other’s nose.

 

Jamie fell back as if Genji were going to strike him.  Wild, light brown eyes bore into Genji for a long moment, staring over his face before turning back to his companion. “Whatcha think, Mako?” He whispered. “Be easy to just knick it and be off.”

 

The other man crouched down and looked Genji over.  He was a hulking mass of a man, towering over them both. Genji felt the vomit once again rise in his throat, not from drunkenness this time, but pure fear.  This one was older with a darker look in his eye. His gaze ran over Genji slowly. He wore a faded, black leather jacket that stretched over his wide shoulders and thick jeans. He reached out and pulled Jamie away, his whole hand easily encircling the other’s whole shoulder with his large, fingerless gloves. His features were square, at least the parts not obstructed with the medical mask. Genji could still distinctly see the frown on the man’s face.  

 

Genji swallowed as he saw the slight pressure on the younger man and Mako’s eyes stopped at his left hand, laying limp at his side.  Genji own gaze followed his down until it rested on the cell phone in his hand. His grasp tightened as Mako reached out for it. Genji pulled away.  It was not worth it, his brain commanded through the haze. Just give them the device. Too late though. In the forefront of his mind, he could only think about the single, lone charm that dangled off the end of the phone.  The single, jade green prayer bead that Zenyatta had given to him during finals week. A token of good luck. The omnic hummed happily as he attached it to the strap on his phone, stating with his serene, metallic voice that anytime he needed it, to just touch the bead and think quiet thoughts.  

 

He did not want to lose him.

 

Mako pulled his hand back and ran a meaty hand through his spiked, white hair.  “Jamie,” His voice held a warning as his dark eyes pinned the other to the spot. “Ain’t thieves.”

 

The smaller man seemed to jump back at that as if he was slapped. “Ain’t thieves? Mate,”  He pulled out three wallets from his pockets and held them up. “Mate.”

 

Genji felt his stomach turn again.

 

The big one, Mako grunted and reached out with one giant paw of a hand and pulled Jamie back. “No. Not Thievin’ him.” Mako talked in hushed tones, so low Genji could not pick them up.  

 

“Really?”  Jamie sat back.  “Mako no.”

 

“Jamie-”

 

“No!”

 

“Rat!”

 

Jamie’s face fell, his eyes darted back to Genji and he let out a long whine. “Not him. Please, anything but that.”

 

_________________

 

Jesse stepped into the cold night air and the silence, shutting the door behind him as he leaned against the wood and stone column. He thumped his head lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to agitate the already prominent headache.  

 

He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his teeth without lighting it and gazed down the quiet, suburban street. Ana would kill him if he stunk out her front porch with the smell of tobacco.  Reinhardt quit smoking, she would say, it is a bad influence to smoke in front of him. He rolled the cigarette with his tongue, looking back as a wash of gold light spilled out from the blazing house. “How can yer mom stand to have it so hot in there all the time?” He groaned at his sister, not needing to look back to know who came out to claim him.

 

Fareeha shrugged, pulling the black leather jacket closer around her as she gazed into the snowy night.  “She says the cold is bad for her arthritis,” She leaned against a twin column and tried to hide the shiver that rolled through her smaller frame.  “She really got to you in there, didn’t she?”

 

“What?”  He huffed and looked away, “Naw, she’s fine.”  He frowned and chewed on the end. “Just don’t like it when she and Rein fight.”

 

“You think that was a fight?” Fareeha laughed.  “They are just loud. And worried about your dumb ass.”  

 

He rolled his eyes again.  “It’s not five minutes into dinner and the woman launched into another monologue about how I should be doing better for myself.” He grunted.  It was her favorite topic of conversation when he was around. How his life was miserable. About how he did not have to live in some broken down apartment in the middle of the worst neighborhoods and he did not have to be just another handyman. “I do well for myself.”

 

“You practically disappear for months on end, Jess. You hardly pick up her calls and when we do get a hold of you, it’s all excuses for why you miss holidays and cookouts and everything. I have to make you call mom so she stops freaking out that you were kidnapped. She has a right to worry, you know.”

 

“It ain’t like I’m actually her kid,” Jesse sighed. “She don’t have any obligation to help me, past she feels guilty.” Instantly, he regretted the words as they poured from his mouth. He slowly looked over to Fareeha’s upturned eyebrows. “Sorry I-”

 

“No,” She reached over and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and snapped it in half. “She didn’t have any obligation to you.  But she took you in any way. Uncle Gabe and Jack are gone and it is sad. It still hurts her, you know? She thinks she can honor their memory by making sure your dumb butt stays out of jail. And I rather like having a big brother, so you can suck on it.”

 

Jesse sighed.  “Bein’ a handyman ain’t bad work--”

 

“If you didn’t slink out of the kitchen like a fucking ninja, you would have heard Reinhardt say the same thing.  No one is expecting you to become a doctor or a lawyer or anything. Mom just hates that you--”

 

“Help people?” He spat out.

 

“Never stop,” Fareeha sighed, “Every night you are at some building putting in electrical wires or redoing the plumbing or hanging drywall. Every morning you are going to little old lady’s homes and fixing their washers or unclogging a sink or god knows what else. Then you actually do come over here for dinner, you just look so tired.” She nudged him with her elbow. “And won’t say anything to anyone.”

 

Jesse swallowed. “Life ain’t all sunshine and rainbows but--”

 

“Tell me what is going on,” Fareeha stated.  He looked over and met her warm eyes. “Is it your boyfriend?”

 

He winced at that.  “How is it you can always cut right to the root of things?”

 

“He’s the only thing that is new. Go on, what’s going on?”  She nudged him with her shoulder.

 

Jesse shook his head and let out a long sigh.  He flicked the cigarette into the snow and watched the snow cover in a matter of seconds. “I don’t know what happened. Could’ve sworn I did nothin’ wrong this time but..Couple weeks ago we did some...stuff. And overnight, he just stopped talking to me.”

 

Fareeha stood up straighter, her frown deepened. “Stuff? Jesse, if you are getting back into-”

 

“It ain’t drugs.” Jesse sighed and let it all flow out; speaking to Hanzo after work, how it progressed into some weird, shitty phone sex and the sending of pictures. Naked pictures.  He frowned. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” He concluded. “Never got any complaints before.”

 

“First off; Gross. I didn’t need the visual of you naked and sending dick pics to your boyfriend,” She stated.  “Secondly,” She bit her lower lip a little and took a deep breath before looking over at her brother. “Maybe him not talking to you is a good thing.”

 

Jesse frown deepened. “Reeha-”

 

“Don’t Reeha me, Jess. I only met him once but he seemed real,” She paused and shook her head. “He seemed high maintenance. You took him to the woods and he dressed like you were going to a bar.You are too chill for that, you know? It was a good, fun fling, but maybe that was all he wanted from you, and now you can just move on.”

 

Down the road, a car slowly backed out of the snow-covered driveway and into the street.  It skidded and twisted in the slick road before the headlights flickered on and the car slowly drove past the house, the snow crunching loudly under the tires.  “Maybe I don’t want to move on.” He sighed.

 

_______________

 

Genji groaned as he bobbed along, hanging limply over the shoulder of the huge man.  His stomach lurched with each jerk that pressed against his middle. From behind him….in front of him….somewhere near him...he could hear Mako and Jamie speaking in hushed tones. Mako’s voice was a low, roaring rumble.

 

His eyes focused on the pavement beneath him, watching the neon lights flicker on the fresh snow.  “Where are you taking me?” He managed to groan out.

 

Jamie’s step fell back until he was with Genji. “What’s that?”

 

Genji pushed against Mako’s back and looked up at the scrawny blonde man.  “What are you doing with me?” He tried again.

 

“Takin’ you to a friend,” Mako rumbled. His voice was like gravel, but it soothed him.  Genji growled and began to struggle, but a heavy hand landed on his back and pressed him down to keep him still. “Quit it. Ain’t hurtin’ ya none.”

 

He stopped struggling and swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat.  The road began to spin from under him as the flash of the lights became too intense.  His vision pinpricked and warbled around the edges of his eyes, shrouding him in a haze of gray.  Genji let out a simpering moan and let his fingers dig into the warn black leather of the big man’s coat, trying to find purchase.

Jamie frowned as looked him over again He took a long step to the left, out of Genji’s line of sight.  “Roadie, he ain’t lookin’ too good.”

 

“Gonna barf?”

 

Jamie nodded. “Gone green around the gills.”

 

Mako let out a deep, rumbling sigh and stopped walking.  Genji let out a long burp as he was twisted off the man’s shoulder and his feet hit the pavement. The world spun and he bent in half, sucking in a long inhale of breath and trying to not embarrass himself more.  Mako’s two large, meaty hands remained on his shoulders, holding him upright. “Call ‘im, Jamie.”

 

“Roadie-”

 

“Rat!”  The man barked, turning to the other man. Even with the surgical mask, Genji could see the snarl.

 

Jamie frowned deeply and dug into Genji’s pocket, all the while grumbling and complaining in words Genji could not decipher, even being that close to his ear.  Genji reached out to push the man away, only to have Mako hold him tighter. Jamie extracted his phone and frowned. “ ‘S’all in squiggles.”

 

“Japanese,” Genji grumbled. “I’m Japanese.”

 

“Just look at contacts, you should find something,” Mako grunted as Jamie frowned down at the phone and slowly scrolled.

 

Mako turned back to Genji. He slid a single arm around his shoulder and led him over to the bus stop bench, sitting him down with his firm hand.  Genji willingly went down, even as he was manhandled to put his head between his knees. The bench creaked as Mako’s large form planted itself next to Genji, hip to hip. “Breathe,”  Mako commanded.

 

“Got it!” Jamie looked up with a wide smile, holding the phone up for his partner to see. Slowly, that distressed frown crossed his face again. “Hey, Roadie, what the fuck am I suppose’ta say?”

 

“‘Hello’ is a good start,” Mako grunted.  Jamie frowned again before straightening up and clutching his own phone with two hands as the uncomfortable frown deepened. He turned on heel and walked, speaking low to the person on the other end of the line.

 

The hand pressed against Genji’s back and he felt a slight whimper slip from his lips.  “Hurt?” Mako asked. His voice was still thick like he had been eating gravel, but it held a quietness to it.

 

Genji nodded.  The pressure on his back subsided, though the hand remained.  

 

“How much you drink?”

 

Genji shrugged, “Lost count.” He managed.

 

“Stupid.”

 

They sat in silence. The large hand began to slowly draw circles into his shivering skin as Jamie spoke on the phone.  Sometimes, his voice would get really high and he would begin to speak faster and faster until finally, “Said we should take him there now,”  Jamie stated, “Roadie, do we gotta?”

 

“Yes,” Mako stated and stood. Genji felt the hand wrap around his side and drew him up. Instead of throwing him over his shoulder again, Mako leaned Genji against his slide, holding him against his body so his feet barely dragged along the ground.  He opened his mouth to protest and Mako snorted back to not argue. He kept quiet.

 

Genji felt his eyes drift shut as the trio moved along the quiet city streets. “Don’t take me home,” He mumbled out, his voice had a whine to it he had not expected. “I don’t want to go back there and scream again. Please,” He begged.

 

“Can’t leave you here,”  Mako’s hand shifted to his hip and he was lurched up, pulled more upright.  “Gonna freeze to death. Or get mugged.”

 

“Or stabbed,” Jamie interjected.

 

“Or stabbed,” Mako echoed.  “Ain’t gonna have that on my conscious.”

 

Genji hummed.  Slowly, the blinking lights of the city fell away with the sounds of traffic until all he heard was the deep, gasping breath of the man next to him and the crunch of fresh snow underfoot.  Under his eyelids, darkness enveloped him and he relaxed more. Mako’s body was warm. His hand was soothing. Genji felt himself drifting off. He began to mumble and talk, just letting it all spill out to these two strangers as they dragged him into the darkness.  

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t take the word of the man,” Mako grunted. “Fucking newspapers ain’t a good source. Talk to someone that knows.”

 

Genji felt his head swimming.  “Talk?”

 

“You don’t know, maybe the dude had it coming,” He grunted.  “Stabbed men for plenty of reasons. Most of ‘em deserved it. Who told you he didn’t deserve to be stabbed?”

 

Genji swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill out from behind his eyes. “Just sad memories,” He managed.

 

“Get some real answers and don’t get shitfaced in an alley where someone like Jamie would stab and rob you,” He continued

 

Jamie hummed in agreement.  He said something, but Genji could not catch it.  The world around him felt warm and dark and inviting. He slowly let these two strange men drag him along.  They, at least, were not the danger anymore.

 

“--An interesting predicament, I am sure,”  Genji’s eyes snapped open. He was prone, on his back with something over him.  He sat up and found himself alone in a dark room, a wool blanket carefully tucked around him. How long had he been out? Where was he?

 

The two robbers. The ones in the alley. His mind raced. They took him. Carried him away and now...now, where was he?  His hand flew to his pocket and found it empty. The smaller man had taken his phone.

 

The door swung open. Genji’s eyes shot up. “Ah, I thought I heard movement,”  came the quiet hum. Zenyatta stepped into the room, a steaming towel was in his hand.  “I assumed you would have slept the rest of the night,”

 

Genji blinked a few more times, looking over the monk in front of him.  His lips moved, trying to form words that in his sleepful daze would not come.

 

“How did you get here?”  Zenyatta knelt next to him. Behind him, in the doorway stood Jamie, frowning deeply with his hands in his pockets and hunched over, watching Zenyatta’s every movement closely.  “My friends Roadhog and Junkrat. They found you laying in the snow. I am grateful they found you, my friend.”

 

The warm towel was pressed against the side of his head and Genji moaned out at the contact. He leaned into the warmth.  “They-”

 

“Called me. On your phone. I must say I was rather surprised.  I had not heard from you for so long. When I contacted Ms. Oxton about your absence, she informed me you were going through some things.”

 

Genji could only manage to nod as he leaned heavily into the hand.  “Sorry,” he managed as Zenyatta hand moved to his cheek. He slowly pressed Genji down to lean against his shoulder as the warmth of the towel moved over his tired face.

 

The loud stomps of the other man pulled Genji’s eyes back open. He slowly looked up at the man that took up the entire door frame.  “Gonna go then,” Mako rumbled out, his eyes on Genji then back to the omnic.

 

“Must you?”  Zenyatta asked. His fingers threaded themselves through the short hair at Genji's temple.  Genji felt his eyes pull closed again. He relaxed further into the other’s warm body. “I should repay you both for finding my dear friend.”

 

“Naw,” Mako stated. “Got him here, ‘s’all that counts.” He grunted slightly.  Genji forced his eyes open and saw Jamie frowning next to him, his elbow jammed into Mako’s side.  “‘Course, we always take food.”

 

Zenyatta slipped away and Genji whimpered at the loss of contact.  He curled himself in the spot Zenyatta once occupied and listened as the omnic moved around the room.  “My brother and sisters of the Shambali are presently gone to a weeklong retreat in the mountains,” Zenyatta reached down and opened up a small drawstring purse.  “So I am here alone.”

 

“All by yourself?” Jamie sounded a little shocked, then he sneered. “Figured your lot would travel in packs after the whole-” He made the sound of a gunshot and grunted loudly.  Mako must have elbowed him back.

 

“I must say,” Zenyatta stated, his voice catching suddenly before it resumed its regular effect. “I do not like the idea of being here alone, not with all the recent vandalism. And now with my friend in there, sick as he is.”

 

“We’ll stay,” Mako grunted.  “For the night.”

 

“But-” Jamie’s voice was high and breathy. “Mako!”

 

“Warm beds,” Mako snorted.  “We stay.”

 

“Excellent!” Zenyatta clapped his hands together and bowed slightly.  “I must also confess, I do not have anything that would be considered decent food. Let me give you some money and you may go bring back dinner for yourselves and something for my friend.  He will need something in his stomach, I imagine.”

 

Genji curled himself tighter, pulling the blanket closer around him as shame filled his core.  The two men grunted out several more things to the monk before silence once again filled the room.  Genji squeezed his eyes tighter shut as he heard the slight shuffling of feet. Once again, Zenyatta was seated next to him, his warm hand threaded back through his hair.  Genji groaned and lifted his head up until it was firmly planted in Zenyatta’s lap. Shame be damned, he slowly wrapped a single arm around his middle. “You know they are probably the ones drawing penises on your walls,” Genji mumbled into the fabric on his lap.

 

“I am aware,’ Zenyatta hummed. His fingers moved slowly, across his temple and down to the nape of his neck, petting back the hair that refused to stay flat.  He said nothing else, he only resumed his ministrations as Genji felt himself slowly drifting away. “I also believe that people are really decent at heart. Those two especially.”

 

Genji hummed. He had expected Zenyatta’s lap to be hard, all angles and metal edges.  It was not. He was soft and warm. Firm. Genji let out a deep sigh. “Sorry,” He apologized again.

 

“And what is it that you are to be sorry for?” His hand moved to his forehead. He brushed along the crease there until it relaxed away.

 

“Worrying you, I guess.  Not calling. Getting drunk.  Getting kidnapped.”

 

“All three of those things has worried me, yes,”  Zenyatta hummed. “But I am glad you are safe now. And I assume you have your reasons for behaving this way.”

 

He hummed and nodded.  “Rough week.Had a big fight with my brother and I ran out.”

 

“Lena said as much,” Zenyatta’s thumb moved over his closed eyes. Genji relaxed deeper, holding him a little tighter.  “I will not pry though.”

 

He had to change the subject as the silence drifted on, leaving him uncomfortable. He could feel his heart beating harder and harder in his chest as Zenyatta’s words hung in the air. He would not pry. He would not ask for more.  “How’d you meet those two?”

 

“Roadhog and Junkrat?”  Zenyatta let out a low chuckle.  “Mako brought Jamison here a long time ago.  They do not trust omnics, but they were desperate and Jamison was in need.  I helped them out and Mako realized that he could come to me anytime from then on and have an ally. They have come here for help when it is needed ever since.  Mako recognized the charms on your phone as Shambali. That is how he knew to bring you here.”

 

Genji nodded slightly, curling up tighter on Zenyatta’s lap as he drifted between wakefulness and sleep. “Will you stay here tonight?” He asked so quietly, he was sure the omnic could not hear.  Slowly, the hand threaded itself back into his hair and pulled him in close.

 

________

 

The elevator gave a low bong as Hanzo stepped into the small room.  He swiftly jabbed the button for the top floor, thankful for at least the early morning meeting and the lack of human interaction.  He stepped back and fidgeted with the tie around his neck, making sure everything lay smoothly as the elevator ascended.

 

The invocation came late last night, a single call that went right to his voicemail without even ringing.  On the other end of the receiver was a woman with a bored, disinterested voice, calmly confirming his appointment at the Westedge Harbor National Bank branch at precisely seven thirty in the am.

 

He had felt his blood run cold at that.  Two weeks now he had not performed a single task set out for him.  Ogundimu would be furious, he already knew that. He knew he should not have just laid there in his apartment and wallowed in his depression.

 

And now he had been summoned.

 

 _‘Like a dog,_ ’ the voice in the back of his mind hissed.  Hanzo shut his eyes and begged the voices to quiet down.  They had grown louder since Genji’s expulsion. He had nothing left to keep those damned voices in his mind from speaking to him, badgering him and berating him for every misstep he took.  

 

The door gave another short ‘bong’ as the elevator slowed its ascent. Hanzo ran a hand through his hair, making sure it was in place.  Everything had to be perfect. He had to look perfect.

 

He stepped into the marble-floored hallway. His steps echoed off the bare walls, making him somehow feel even smaller than he had previously.  The hallway somehow felt longer than it had before, more enclosed. More...finality.

 

The assistant sat behind her desk, her golden eyes locked onto him with a sniper’s gaze. A small smirk crossed over her ruby red lips as she reached under the desk and pushed a button.  “Three minutes late,” She informed.

 

Hanzo scowled at her as he pushed open the door and stepped into Ogundimu’s office.  The soft, morning sun was just peeking over the horizon, bathing the world in a soft, violet and pink light.  Through the window, he could see the beginning of the morning rush of workers, red and white lights of cars sat almost still in the morning.  Ogundimu himself behind his large mahogany desk, his eyes on the tablet in front of him.

 

Hanzo stepped closer until he was just in front of the man. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood, waiting to be acknowledged.

 

Ogundimu flipped through article after article. Slowly the sun rose over the edge of the horizon, glinting off the surrounding buildings. Hanzo turned his face away to keep from becoming blind in their light. He tried to not scowl further at this obvious snub.

 

“You are a mess,” the man said finally. Still, he did not look up.  Instead, he flipped to another app on his tablet.

 

“I have things that need to be accomplished today, Mr. Ogundimu. Get to the point of why you called me here.”  Hanzo could feel himself bristle as dark eyes left the tablet and rolled over him before meeting his gaze with as much fury as he gave. “Please,” He gritted his teeth.

 

Ogundimu sat back in his chair and folded his hands in front of him. “You are slipping, Shimada.I was just reading through articles on your latest....escapades.”

 

Hanzo stood up straighter and clenched his jaw.  His eye moved to the building across the way, not at all looking at the cruel smile that twisted along Ogundimu’s face.  

 

“You are slipping.  You were seen several times. Now I also have had to deal with my insurance company.  Did you realize that over fifty people saw you in my home taking a...what was it now?”

 

“A lapel pin,” He growled.

 

“A lapel pin,” Akande rolled his shoulders back and Hanzo could hear the crack of them falling back into place as the man stood. He smoothed his hands over his jet black suit coat before he moved around the desk with more fluidity than a man that size should possess. Without looking at Hanzo, he walked to the wet bar.  Akande delicately lifted a decanter filled with dark red wine and swirled it before he poured it into a glass. “I believe our contract explicitly prohibited you being seen or caught. And here you are, breaking both those statutes in one evening.”

 

“I am not the one that hired two thieves to go after personal items.  You wanted me to be caught,” Hanzo stated.

 

The decanter crashed down hard onto the counter, the bottom cracked and glass tinkled over the edge and to the ground. Ogundimu turned, his eyes dark and pressing into Hanzo.  “What does it matter what I do, Shimada? I have tasked you with silently taking things that amuse me, nothing more. You are in no position to disobey me.”

 

Bright red liquid trickle down the side of the bar and pool on the floor.  His eyes focused there, watching the droplets of liquid drip slowly. It did not look right, his mind reeled. It was too thin.  All wrong. He tore his eyes away, focusing instead back on the tall man that stalked around him like a predator ready to attack. He opened his mouth.

 

“I did not give you permission to speak,” Ogundimu growled.  He lifted up his glass and took a slow sip as he moved back to his desk, ignoring the mess and the burgundy footprints left in his wake.  “I assumed that since you carried the Shimada name you would be able to get what I desired with no problem. I assumed that everything I tasked out to you would be completed within the week. Instead, I find myself,” He sucked in a deep breath. “disappointed.” His eye drew along Hanzo’s physique, scowling.  “You appeared so promising.”

 

Hanzo stared forward, unwilling to speak. Ogundimu sat back in his oversized chair and crossed his right leg over his left and swirled the wine in the glass before tasting.  “Your uncle would have been ashamed of you. He had such high expectations of you as well. It is such a shame you were never able to complete your training. Of course, you were the reason that was….cut short.”

 

Hanzo bristled at the mention of his uncle.  His frown deepened as he turned away. “Did you bring me here just to berate me for my past? I have better things to do than waste my time here.”

 

Ogundimu’s eyes locked him in his place.  “You failed me, Hanzo. As such, I will have to require more from you, to make up for the police presence in my home. I was quite an embarrassment to me and my guests to have their presence so near.  They are so crass. As well as that idiotic Sentai Warrior. You were the one that led him to me. You, and no one else.”

 

“Of course,” Hanzo spat out from between clenched teeth.

 

“I take it you brought my lapel pin with you.  Hand it over now, boy.”

 

Hanzo felt his fist clench.  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a  package, wrapped in gauze. He stepped forward, setting in on the desk.

 

“Wonderful,” Akande reached forward and picked it up, slowly unwrapping it and holding the bronzed skull up.  “This was an assassination device. It was used on a woman who betrayed her family. She attacked and murdered her own sister for selfish gains. A simple prick was all it took.  It would be such a shame if that were to happen again, wouldn’t it? I think my next list for you will have to require a bit more...blood.”

 

He slipped the lapel into a drawer in his desk. “Amelie will have your next list or requirements waiting for you as you leave. Good day, Mr. Shimada.  I do hope your brother as well.”

 

_______________

 

The crisp morning air and steaming hot tea helped revive him back to life.  Genji stopped and leaned the shovel against his arm as he blew his hot breath into his icy fingers, working warmth back into the digits.

 

He woke up with the early morning light, and to the thunderous roar of Mako’s deep snoring. He found spare clothes that had been left out for him and dressed before heading out and finding the shovel propped by the door.

 

Zenyatta had left sometime earlier, leaving a note in his wake explaining how he had duties at a local shelter and to make full use of anything on the property Genji may need.  

 

The clothes were the traditional robes of the Shambali order.  At first, he felt awkward wearing the orange and burgundy colors, feeling as if he were an imposter masquerading as a monk. But the second he slipped on the boots by the door and stepped into the crisp air, he was surprised with how well insulated they were. Only his ears and fingers really felt the biting wind of the cold.

 

It took most of the morning to shovel the front walk all the way down to street level, where he met morning commuters and wished them a good day.  Most smiled back at him happily as they trekked by the monastery and to their places of employment. It calmed him.

 

Now, he worked on the front porch, taking up the broom and cleaning away the final remains of snow that persisted. It felt good, working with his hands on a simple task that had a clear ending in sight.

 

Still, the anger persisted inside him.  The ache and betrayal.

 

Hanzo had always been secretive.  He was always so closed off to the world around him, only showing off calculated weaknesses that he wanted a person to know. That night, he had confronted Hanzo with something he knew his brother would not want to talk about.  Hanzo had killed a man. Their own flesh and blood. He slaughtered him.

 

“Genji, my friend,” Zenyatta stepped up the front steps and folded his hands gracefully in front of him.  “You are awake. I was under the impression that with the amount of alcohol you consumed last night you would be incapacitated for hours.”

 

“The big guy was louder than my hangover,” He jerked his thumb behind him.  “Thank you for dealing with my drunk ass last night. I can get a little clingy when I am...that way.”

 

“I found you endearing,” Zenyatta hummed. He moved next to Genji and sat on the bench outside the front door.  “Come sit, speak with me.”

 

Genji plopped down and let out a long sigh.  “I expect you want an explanation to why I was so drunk I couldn’t walk here.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“And to why I haven’t called you,”  Genji twisted the broom in his fingers.  He took a deep breath and looked over at the man next to him, “It’s been a hard week.”

 

“It must have been.  You normally reply to my inquiries immediately.  Is it the school that is troubling you?”

 

Genji groaned and ran a hand over his face.  “Shit, classes started up last week. I haven’t gone to any of them yet.” He let out a light laugh and shook his head.  “It’s just...family issues.”

 

“I have the time to listen, if you need,” Zenyatta stated.  “Come inside. I will brew up some hot tea.”

 

Genji followed him inside. He sat at the table and watched the monk move slowly around the kitchen, setting the kettle on the stove.  From above, the loud rumbling of Mako’s snores told him the other two were still asleep.

 

Zenyatta did not state a word as he set out two cups. He placed two bags of tea into each cup and waited for the kettle to steam.

 

Genji closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.  “When I was a kid, I ended up in foster care. I bounced from awful home to awful home and just was bitter at the world.  When I was twelve though, I ended up in this foster home. I was just this awful, angry brat of a kid and just pissed off at the world and the family I was with just didn’t put up with any of my bullshit.” He smiled a little and leaned against the counter, wrapping his hands tightly around the warm mug of tea.  “When I was fifteen my brother got custody of me again and I was forced to leave them. A year later, my foster parents died.”

 

Zenyatta moved into the seat across from him and nodded. He gripped his own cup of tea loosely.  “I am sorry to hear that.”

 

“At first, I thought it was like my parents, you know? A car accident or something.  Whenever I tried to talk to people here about it, I couldn’t get a clear answer. Instead, I would get these weird non-answers.

 

“I found out that they were in an accident. The same one that killed that superhero duo.  The city lost its mind after that and,” He sighed. “I feel,” He trailed away and took a sip of the tea in front of him. He felt lost.  Knowing what had happened to Gabe and Jack should have been enough to satisfy his curiosity. It should have eased his mind and allowed him to move on.  Somehow though, it just did not seem fair. “I feel like those heroes should have worked harder to save my parents, you know?”

 

“Grief is a difficult emotion to process. Anger is a part of that. It is natural to want to blame someone.”

 

“I had a foster brother while I was there too,” Genji sighed.  “I...Hanzo didn’t like that. He never liked that I talked about my foster family at all. He somehow thought he should have been enough of a family to me. I lost contact with him after I left my home.  I wish I didn’t and I worry about what has happened to him,” His mind wandered back to that Mystery Man. How his mask slipped and…

 

After, it all, he doubted his memory.  He thought he had seen his brother that night.  He thought Jesse was there with him in that room, but it was a mistake.  Why would Jesse have been there, his mind asked. What purpose would Jesse have had to be there?

 

It was his mind, wanting that connection.  With everything that had happened, everything that jumbled his mind, the mirage of Jesse was just that.  False.

 

“Have you tried reaching out to your foster brother and get back in contact?”

 

Genji shook his head.  “I wouldn’t know where to start. The city is big and I haven’t seen him in years.”

 

Zenyatta hummed.

 

“I wouldn’t have to do this if Hanzo hadn’t taken me away,” His fist fell onto the counter hard. He frowned as the cup warbled, but did not fall.  “I never wanted to leave Jack and Gabe. They were going to adopt me. They already were making plans for sending me to college and I-” He took a deep breath.  “I left them and they died and...it’s Hanzo’s fault.”

 

“What is your brother’s fault?”  Zenyatta asked quietly. He moved to the kettle and poured more tea into Genji’s cup.  He had not realized it was empty.

 

“All of it,” Genji mumbled.  “He’s the reason I was sent there in the first place...and then he wandered back into my life and stole me away from them.  He never even asked me what I wanted.”

 

“Can I assume that the reason you are here and not in your own home is because of him?”  Zenyatta asked.

 

“We had a fight,” He paused and then corrected himself “I started a fight. I just...with everything going on, I could not stand to look at his face. It just made me so mad to see him there, sitting there like nothing had happened and he was acting like nothing was his fault and...I got mad.”

 

“You left though,” Zenyatta said, his voice became stern.  “You walked away from the situation- whatever the catalyst was- before it could become violent.  You made a good choice Genji.”

 

“It just,”  Genji let out another loud sigh as he tried to calm himself.  He could feel the tension mounting along his spine, aching across his back in a way he had not felt in years.  His stomach twisted and it all suddenly burst like a dam, “It feels like my life is just this shit carousel and that every time I make a pass, it gets faster and faster and then the people on the sidelines keep throwing more and more shit into my path and now I am riding this garbage merry-go-round and all I want to do is get off and no one will listen.”

 

He panted and collapsed into his arms.  “I hate it.” He mumbled. “And then I come here and just unload on you like you are my damn therapist and-” Another heavy sigh raked through his body. He tried to keep it together, to not let the tears that threaten to spill outcome forth.  “I’m a bad friend and I hate that.”

 

“If it is any consolation,”  Zenyatta stated slowly. “I do not think of our relationship as one-sided. I appreciate how much you trust me with this, Genji. You lean on me for support and I do the same.”

 

“Bullshit,” Genji mumbled into his arms.  

 

Zenyatta chuckled and laid a warm hand on the back of Genji’s neck.  “I must admit, you have helped me cope with the sadness in the world.  For me, helping a friend regain his footing and become a stronger person because of it makes me a stronger person as well.”

 

“Bullshit,”  Genji tilted his head to the side and looked at the ever calm omnic.  “What could possibly be wrong with your life? You are, like, the leader of an order of monks. People like you and come to you all the time for help. How could my fucked up life and the drama with my brother do anything but drain you?”

 

Zenyatta’s finger rolled slowly over the rim of his glass. His gaze was downcast.  “I have not been completely truthful with you, Genji. You have been instrumental in helping me work through my own grief.” A deep sigh rippled through his body, despite the face the omnic did not breath.  His finger continued to trace the rim out the cup. “There is this deep grief within me and I have found it difficult for me to voice it. Seeing you Genji has revived my sense of purpose. I have a better grip and understanding of life with you near.”

 

Genji slipped out of his chair and walked around the table. He fell into the seat next to the monk and leaned against his shoulder. He reached out and laced his fingers together with Zenyatta’s and gripped his hand tightly.  “Whenever I am alone with you, I feel…” He gripped his hand tighter. “Quiet.”

 

Zenyatta’s head leaned against Genji’s. He could hear the servos within the other’s body. The low hum of the other’s body calmed his soul.  Gently, Genji’s released the other’s arm and wrapped his arm around the other’s waist. “When you want to talk about it, I am here to listen.”

 

_______

 

Hanzo’s phone buzzed. Again. It was the fifth time in the last hour. And once again, it was not Genji.

 

Hanzo stared at the blank screen of his phone and watched the little light flash on and off, indicating that, he had messages waiting. Fifty-two of them, all from the same source.  Jesse.

 

The cowboy was relentless in his pursuits. Messaging him repeatedly in a ten-minute block, then radio silence again for another several hours.  At first, Hanzo had taken to reading them, feeling his insides twist and bend with every word. Every ‘good morning’, every ‘are you ok?’. Every single plea to get him to respond.

 

Hanzo had hoped that would be all it took to get Jesse to stop trying to contact him. It was childish, Hanzo knew, but he could not bring himself to message back.

 

He threw the phone down onto the mattress hard and watched it bounce off the bed and land on the floor with a dull ‘thunk’.  It was better this way. He did not have the time for a distraction. Jesse was a distraction.

 

On his desk, sitting benignly in the gold envelope sat his nest list of requirements.  The damned witch of an assistant handed it to him with a sneering smirk. “Au revoir, Monsieur Shimada. Forget about the last request. We already have someone more capable of it.” Her words were biting and they struck him deep in his core.

 

Someone more capable of it.  Obviously, it was the other man at the party, that Mystery Man. That made it hurt worse.  The man was a buffoon. A hack in a costume who paraded around and made a fool of himself.

 

Fresh anger boiled inside of him, choking him of breath and he began to pace the room again.  He needed to move. To walk. To run and climb and hit and destroy. He let that woman’s words run like ice down his spine and freeze his core.  He was not incapable. He had been distracted, nothing more. He was out of practice.

 

‘ _They want you to fail,_ ’ His mind hissed.

 

His hand twisted in his hair as he nodded.  They wanted him to fail, to humiliate him again.  Ogundimu thought of him as nothing more than a child. A failure to his family’s name and legacy.

 

‘ _He thinks he has power over you because he knows who you are,_ ’  The voice in his mind hissed. It swirled around inside his head and he felt a cold rush slither down his spine.  ‘ _But then, how does he know who you are? Shimada secrets were to be carried to the grave_ ,’

 

Hanzo stopped.  He frowned and looked at himself in the mirror. “How did he know?”  He asked.

 

Hiroto.

 

Hiroto told him. He told him everything. Hanzo felt a fresh wave of indignation wash over him.  It all led back to his damned uncle.

 

Was it Ogundimu who told Genji?

 

No. It was part of the contract. He was not to have any contact with the younger Shimada. If he were, it would make the contract null and void.  Hanzo had made that ultimatum clear. He would pay back Ogundimu for all he had done, with interest, but Genji was never to learn of any of this.

 

His eye traveled back to the list. His new obligation. The first one was due at the end of the week.  “You have to make progress,” the witch woman informed, “Or Mr. Ogundimu will be forced to put you into collections.”  Her golden eyes danced with dangerous mirth as she ran her talon-like fingers over the envelope in his hand and left him with a threat. “I doubt very much you would like to see how Mr. Ogundimu collects on debts like yours.”

 

Hanzo pulled the shirt from his body and tossed it hard at the wall, snarling at how unsatisfying it felt.

 

A loud buzz pulled him out of his thoughts as the phone vibrated along the floor. Jesse. Again.

 

Hanzo closed his eyes and took a steadying breath as he moved to his closet and pulled out the clothes stashed in the back.  He ignored the fresh incoming of texts. For a while, Hanzo had thought his tactic of not acknowledging the texts had worked.  Jesse had stopped attempting to call or text and Hanzo felt the loneliness cloak over him as he sat in the darkness.

 

Today though, they had started again full force.

 

Hanzo slipped the heavy, dark silk over his shoulders and looked down at the phone.  He wanted to call Genji again. Text him another apology. Another plea to come home. Another useless appeal that he would make it right. Explain to him the truth.  Fix it.

 

How could he though? He thought the whole mess with Hiroto was behind him.  He had served his time. His record was supposed to have been sealed and no one was to know about that awful event.  Instead, Genji came home and threw it all back into his face. He left in a flurry. He left without allowing Hanzo a chance to respond.

 

Nothing he could have said would have undone the damage though.  His transgressions were laid bare and now he was dealing with the aftermath.

 

The true problem was that Genji had been in distress and Hanzo had ignored all the warning signs.  Coming back to this city, he knew that some things would have eventually come to light. He knew his brother would one day catch word of Hiroto and want to know what had happened to their family.

 

In every reenactment, every recital of this conversation though, Hanzo had been the one to broach it.  He had been the one in charge of distributing the information without outside forces influencing the way his brother’s mind swayed.

 

The problem was  Hanzo’s attention as of late had been torn.  He had made a promise that he would care for Genji.  Genji was to be at the forefront of every decision. Of every task laid before him, it was Genji whom he had to support.  Instead, he allowed his attention to waver. When Genji needed him most, Hanzo had not been there. He had failed him again.

 

The phone buzzed again. And again.

 

Jesse.

 

He turned away and yanked on the dark pants, securing them tightly around his waist before pulling out the soft soled shoes.  He had to keep himself focused. He had to get Genji back. Get him home. And the first step would have been getting Ogundimu off his scent.  He had to do his duty. He had to--

 

The phone buzzed repeatedly, vibrating across the floor. Loud.  Hanzo gritted his teeth and kicked the device away, hearing it thump against the wall.

 

Again, the phone buzzed.

 

Hanzo rubbed his hands over his face. He groaned deeply and stomped over, snatching his phone up and unlocking the screen. Immediately, he was bombarded with the flood of texts and voicemails from Jesse.  

 

‘Hey’

‘Hanzo’

‘Call me’

‘What’s up?’

‘What happened?’

‘Seriously I am worried’

‘I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry’

‘I know I was going too fast. I should have said no’

‘Talk to me’

‘Please’

 

A deep pang settled deep in his heart and blossomed through his being as he scrolled back, reading through each and every short message going back through the past two weeks as he slowly crossed his room.  He dropped down heavily onto the mattress and let out a deep sigh.

 

It was cruel to do this, he knew.  It was childish to just ignore the man outright. He had hoped that just by simply ignoring him, Jesse would lose interest.

 

He had been wrong.

 

His fingers moved slowly over the keyboard as he finally typed out a response. A final reply.  His lips felt numb as his thumb hovered over the button that would send it off. He had to cease all contact. He had to break Jesse McCree out of his life. His finger felt heavy as he pressed and held the send He threw the phone down and dropped back onto the mattress.

 

He waited.

 

He had to be cruel.  He had to do this.

 

His phone buzzed again, in a fresh torrent of messages.

 

‘HANZO!’

‘Where were you?’

‘Are you ok?’

‘Your joking right?’

‘About me leaving you alone?’

 

He drew the bottom lip into his mouth and he worried it between his teeth. He bit hard as he typed out a reply. The pain felt good. It grounded him as he tried to control himself.  Emotions like this left him weak. It left him defenseless. ‘I have responsibilities, Mr. McCree. You are a distraction. I need to focus on the important things.’

 

He looked down at the next message flashed up on screen.  ‘Am I not important?’

 

His heart rose to his throat.  He ached. Hanzo typed out his final message. He had to do it. It needed to be done.   His fingers wavered and he dropped his arms heavily to his side.

 

Was he not important?  

 

Mr. McCree had been a distraction, he settled.  With him around constantly, Hanzo had become ignorant to the troubles that surrounded him. He knew that now.  His own silly wants and needs were nothing in comparison to what was important around him.

 

He looked at the final message. Just one word long. It would be easy to lie, to say it.  He had been doing that his whole life. Lying was just a second nature to him now. It would be so easy to just send it off and be done with him forever. He pressed the button.

 

‘No,’

 

________

 

“Ah, Mr. Warrior, or is Mr. Sentai Warrior,”  Akande smiled brightly and opened the door wide, inviting the masked hero into his office.  “I had not expected you here today.”

 

“It isn’t a bad time, is it?”  Genji turned and looked at the sweetly smiling woman that stood at the door to his office, “Your assistant-”

 

“Ms. Lacroix, please bring our guest something to drink. Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”

 

“Uh,”  Genji watched as she skillfully pulled out a datapad and watched him with large, almost golden brown eyes.  “Nothing, thank you.”

 

Akande waved her out as he put his arm casually around Genji’s shoulder leading him into his oversized, extravagant office. “I forgot, you have your identity to keep a secret. You, my friend, have become the talk of the town. So, what do I owe the honor?”

 

Genji raised his hand to roll it through his hair and faltered as he realized he was wearing a mask. He instead ran his hand over the back of his helmet, running over the smooth surface.  “You told me that I could come to you if I had questions about the city. I-” He cleared his throat and stepped closer. “I want to know more about the previous heroes that lived here. What happened to them and...stuff.”

 

Genji felt like kicking himself.  He practiced the entire way over here on how to address this. He memorized the lines he wanted to say. The second he stepped into the office, everything flew out of his head.  He felt the back of his neck grow hot as the man’s dark gaze slowly rolled over him from top to bottom. Already he had made a fool of himself.

 

“The previous heroes...had good intentions,” Akande stated.  He reclined back in his chair and lifted his left leg over his right before motioning for Genji to take the seat opposite of him.

 

Genji quickly sat, making sure to keep his posture rigid and upright as he listened to the man prattle on about the entire history of the city’s two previous saviors.  Daredevil and Mariachi Bandit were titles coined by the local press. At first, the names were there to describe both vigilantes and discredit their adventures. As it were, having local citizens dress in silly costumes and willingly put themselves into dangerous situations made the job of the local police harder.

 

Then, some underground papers caught wind of their exploits and began to run their own articles, naming both men as champions of justice. “In my honest opinion,” Akande growled out as he took a long sip of his coffee, “I always assumed that those tabloids were first published by the vigilantes themselves. Self-promotion seeking validation from the lowest members of society first.”

 

In the beginning, it was simple things that they thwarted; protecting the citizens of the town from bad men doing bad things. Things like stopping purse snatchers and bank robbers, but then it evolved.

 

“Subtle differences began to appear, though.  While they were partners in justice, both men were not in sync with each other morally. Daredevil was far more trusting of our local police force.  He made an effort to talk and communicate. Of the two, he was the one that saw justice as a rigid code that had a system in place that must be followed. Of the two, he was the better man.”

 

Genji leaned forward. “And the other?”

 

“The other,” Akande’s face darkened. He sat up straighter and squared his shoulders.  “The other was a dark fiend, at heart. In the beginning, he seemed just as interested and truth and justice as his partner.  It quickly became apparent that his vision of justice was more...whimsical. He took the law into his own hands and saw himself as someone’s judge and jury.

 

“It did not start out that way. It started small,”  he added. “Minor offenses became full on court cases. Men that had been tried and found not guilty were persecuted by this dark form of twisted justice. Many, including our local police force, suddenly saw them as a threat.  The former commissioner of police still adhered to the idea that these men were champions for the city. It ended up costing her job after the disaster.”

 

Genji nodded, his mind traveling back to the newspaper clippings of the collapsed bridge, smoke billowing out from the sides and the headline ‘7 Dead’. Images of Jack and Gabe, trapped within the rubble, struggling for air as hot ash suffocated them as they died, alone and in pain. He sucked in a shallow breath, trying to hide the tenseness that poured through his body.  “These two caused it?”

 

“No one was ever able to prove otherwise,” Akande let out a deep sigh.  “Too many of us at the top though, there was no greater threat than these two masked men.  Men that hid their identities from the world for the privilege of attacking those they deemed evil men.  Do I think they meant to become terrorists in the end? Never. But then again, no man sees himself as a villain in his own tale.”

 

Genji frowned and looked down as the silence spread its long tendrils across his back. Akande stared blankly at the desk in front of him.  He took a risk and changed the subject. “You spoke last time about your mentor, Hiroto Shimada.”

 

“Mr. Shimada was a great ally to many of us in the city,” Akande nodded slowly.  “The man pulled me out of a worthless life and made me who I am today. I have no doubt that without his tutelage, I would have been a nobody that did nothing and went nowhere. I wish to follow in his footsteps, find my scion and raise him up from the filth and muck of this city.  You are still too young to know just how disgusting this city can be.”

 

“I have an idea,” Genji mumbled. His jaw ached as he realized how tight his teeth were ground together.  How tense his shoulders were.

 

“I forget sometimes that I am in the presence of a hero, forgive me. Your veneer is so spotless and clean, I almost forget you are more than just the poster child for the new reign of law and order in our city.”

 

“You said last time that his nephew killed him,” He said quickly, trying to divert the conversation back on track. “Can-I tried to look it up, but the records are sealed. Newspaper articles are also really bare of information.”

 

“It started long before,” Akande sighed.  “The man only wanted to do right by his family. Honor and family were two things he held a high value in.  The Shimada family was an old one, but new to the city. They had fled persecution in Japan and were looking to create a new empire here. A political and financial empire.  Hiroto was far more into the business aspect of things, while his brother, Sojiro, wanted to run for office. Together, they wanted to change the world for the better.”

 

A shiver ran down Genji’s spine, settling at the small of his back and tingled.  He sat up straighter at the sound of his own father’s name. He had many times whispered it alone in the dark, along with his mother’s. Ghosts of people that would not return. Names Hanzo would not dare utter louder than a whisper.

 

“It started with Sojiro’s death, I suppose.  I met the boys only a handful of times on my own.  The younger one was full of life and just a small tyke. He was nothing more than a bright-eyed child that saw his uncle as the man that hung the stars and moon in the sky.  Hanzo though, His voice grew grave as he let out a long sigh. “Hanzo was always temperamental.”

 

“Temperamental?”

 

“Angry. A vicious, biting anger that boiled over easily.  The boy was quick to react to situations that were out of his control, and even worse when he was asked to do things he saw as unimportant.  Hiroto tried his best to connect with the boy but soon learned how futile that endeavor was. He was volatile. Dangerous.”

 

Genji worried his lower lip between his teeth. He nodded slowly.  “I saw in the papers that he was murdered.”

 

“His nephew, as I said before.  Hiroto tried his damnedest to keep the younger boy safe.  Eventually, he sent the older boy away to boarding school. He told people it would offer the boy the best education money could buy.  I knew the truth though. The other boy was far too young to really understand the danger that he posed. Hiroto would not jeopardize their safety for any reason.  Hanzo was sent away to protect the younger boy.”

 

Genji shook his head, the taste of blood filled his mouth as he continued to worry his lip.  “Why would you think Hanzo was dangerous? He was a child?”

 

“I had no proof then.  Nothing besides a gut feeling.  I had not spent a lot of time with either boy, but I understood that the older boy had been sent away and he was unhappy about the situation. I should have trusted that gut instinct though.  It was early spring when it happened, still enough chill in the air that I would hurry home after a long day at the office. Hiroto left work early to pick up his nephew from the train station.  It was after midnight when I received the call.

 

“The younger brother had been brutally attacked by a sharp blade. Hiroto was dead. It did not take long for me to piece out what had happened.  Genji had always been the bright light in his parent’s lives, his uncles as well. He was what Hiroto called his brother’s miracle child. They had not expected to have a second, not with the complications Reika had with her first pregnancy, but Genji never fussed.  He never complained or acted out. Hiroto was poised to bypass tradition and name the younger brother his heir even.

 

“Hanzo was morose. Sullen.  The boy grew increasingly jealous every time his brother was doted on, even though Hiroto tried to treat them as equals.

 

“He used a family heirloom to do the dirty deed. A centuries-old ceremonial katana; one of Hiroto’s prized possessions. Many think he chose the blade because of some twisted sense of family honor and dignity.  I believe he used it out of convenience. The boy pictured himself smarter than he actually was at all times. Better than his peers.”

 

Genji felt his back itch. The skin suddenly felt too tight, like it would burst at seams and his entrails would spill out his backside and across the dark marble floors.  “What did he do?” He asked his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“His brother was attacked first. Slashed and stabbed over and over again.  Hiroto just happened to come home at the exact wrong time...or maybe it was the right time.  The boy stopped his relentless attack on his brother and turned the blade on a helpless old man, slitting his throat from ear to ear.”

 

Genji felt his hand move to his own throat, tracing the line where his brother would have cut.  He swallowed the hard lump in his throat as flashes passed before his eyes. Memories like snapshots of laying there, helpless in a pool of hot, sticky pool of his own blood. Panic and fear welling inside him at the image of the child standing over him with those dark eyes as he knelt near to him, speaking words Genji could not hear or understand.

 

“The boy is the one who called the police,” Akande continued.  “I assume it was to gain sympathy for his crime. He was a smart enough child to know that what he had done was wrong.

 

“Interestingly though, those two masked vigilantes were the first ones on the scene.  I had been contacted by the police and rushed to the apartment in the middle of the night, just in time to witness Hanzo being placed into the back of a police car.  He had no regret or emotion on his face. He seemed proud of his actions.

 

“The vigilantes were with the younger boy, holding him as the paramedics worked, talking to him and keeping him calm.  The one they called Daredevil rode away with him in the ambulance. I remember it clearly as if it were yesterday. He held the younger boy’s hand. He refused to let him go.”

 

Akande stood at the closing of his tale, producing a manilla envelope and dropping it in front of Genji’s nose.  “The police report, Mr. Sentai. Truth be told, there is not much there to go on, but that is all we have.”

 

His fingers shook as he slowly opened the file. There was not much inside, only a few pages. The last images of his uncle spread before him with a coroner’s report. His eyes glazed over the brief summary on the first page.

 

 

> Male Minor A **[Name Redacted]** was arrested **[04/21/20XX]** . Male Minor A put on trial for the attack of Male Minor B **[Name Redacted]** and the murder of Hiroto Shimada **[Male, age 47]** . Male Minor B **[Name Redacted]** was to be placed into state care once he was strong enough to leave the hospital. Trial date pending.
> 
>  
> 
> **[Name Redacted]** trial in closed court, tried as a minor.  No reliable witnesses to the crime. Plea of Not Guilty; self-defense. Trial set for the summer season. No contact order in place for the protection of the victim.
> 
>  
> 
> **[Name Redacted]** found guilty. Sent to correctional boy’s facility until the age of majority. **[Name Redacted]** will seek out mental health advisors. In such time, and with the completion of the program, juvenile records will be sealed.

At the bottom of the page were several swirling signatures of different parties that participated in the case.  Genji flipped the page over. Nothing else. His uncle’s death. His brother’s crimes, all transcribed down to three measly paragraphs.

 

He remembered very little of that night. Hiroto had not picked him up from school that day, which had been unusual, except it wasn’t. Hiroto rarely came to get him on days that Hanzo was home.  Genji had raced up the lobby of the apartment complex and leaped into the elevator, jabbing the button for the top floor suite. He knew Hanzo was home. Hanzo would be upstairs waiting for him. Hanzo, with whom the stars hung in the sky for. Hanzo, who made his days brighter and more enjoyable.

 

Except Hanzo had stood there in the doorway, scowling as Genji had entered.  Hanzo, who raised his voice for the first time ever at Genji. Hanzo whose hand came crashing down on him with such force…

 

He had awoken in the hospital days later, aching all over. He could not move or twist.  His back itched and he could feel the tightness in the skin, even though everything felt so numb. A man sat next to him, with golden hair and blue eyes.  He first thought he had to be an angel sent to take him away.A man who promised to one day make sure Genji was with him.

 

Jack…

 

Wet droplets fell onto the visor, blurring his vision further as his hot breath steamed up the inside of his helmet. He quietly shut the folder and pushed it back towards Akande. “He was just a little boy-” His voice cracked. He wasn’t sure who he had been referring to; Hanzo or himself.

 

“A little boy with a violent streak,” Akande sighed and ran his large hand over the top of the folder.  “After the trial, I must confess I was angered. Hanzo had fooled them all into believing he had acted in self-defense.  That somehow Hiroto was the monster and he the victim. I never believed it though. Not the man that pulled me out of the sludge and made me the man I am today. I would not hear of it.”

 

“What did you do?”  Genji felt weak. Lost.

 

“I was unethical,”  Akande shook his head slowly.  “Friends-police officers who believed as I did that Hiroto was a victim- they helped me uncover the truth.  This tiny thought nagged at the back of my brain the whole way through that trial. Reika and Sojiro. What happened to them? How could a single family hold so much sorrow and tragedy?

 

“Hiroto once mentioned how utterly suspicious his brother’s death had been. It was only once, then he never brought it up again.  Utterly suspicious. I did some digging of my own from that night. Sojiro and Reika were killed in an automobile accident. The report stated they lost control of the vehicle and it flipped. But how could that happen?”

 

Genji shrugged, “Snow? Wet pavement? A deer?” He offered.

 

A glint formed in Akande’s dark eyes. “It had been a beautiful night, according to the weather forecast.  Eventually, the police concluded that tired driving was the culprit. Sojiro drifted into the other lane while nodding off.  That he must have overcorrected and lost control, flipping the vehicle and killing himself and his wife.”

 

“You don’t believe that though?”

 

Akande made a few gestures on his tablet before turning it and presenting it to Genji.  On the screen sat a simple police diagram of a car. Tiny red ‘x’s dotted the page, indicating points of impact on the driver side of the car. Genji swallowed as he looked at the labels placed inside.  Sojiro was placed in the driver’s seat. His wife sat behind him. Genji frowned and leaned in closer. “What-”

 

“She shielded her youngest with her body,” Akande stated.  “As the car flipped, Reika used her last moments to make sure her precious child would not be harmed.

 

His name, in clear, bolded print sat near the back seat passenger, with the word ‘carseat’ in brackets next to it.  His own life had been spared because of it.

 

“Hanzo was in the passenger seat,” He whispered.  The picture became clear in his mind. A clear night with his family in the car, Sojiro would not have just fallen asleep.  The man cared for his family too much. Reika, his mother sat near him in the back. And Hanzo...Hanzo sat up front. A child too small for the position, but still his name sat there, bolded. There was no accident. Hanzo grabbed the wheel of the car.

 

“After the trial, I must admit I lost track of the brothers.  I knew the youngest had been put into the state’s care. The commissioner of police had redacted his name off of every file to make sure the boy lived a normal life. I always hoped that he had been adopted and given the loving home that had been stripped of him.

 

“I had also hoped that Hanzo would remain in jail for the duration of his life for his crimes. I knew that would not happen though.  I was at the boy’s trial. I saw what kind of manipulator and actor the boy was. I fear he fooled the system and was let go. I fear what will happen to the younger brother and what will happen if Hanzo is angered again.”

 

_________

 

It should have been easy. Hanzo felt his heart beat wildly in his chest as he raced away. His lungs burned and ached with every strained step he took.  Hands clutched his side as he scrambled down an empty alleyway and into the comfort of the darkness. He had not been caught this time. He had not had to contend with the Sentai Warrior or that damned Mystery man.  Instead, he just had his victim.

 

His stomach lurched at the reminder of the sound; metal on metal. Hissing groans and deafening cracks.

 

Hanzo sunk to his knees, clutching his side as he felt the deep bruise forming. A hard knot of muscle. If he stopped now, he knew he would not be able to continue on. Already he could feel his side stiffening. The adrenaline draining from his body and leaving him exhausted. Drained.

 

He pulled his prize out, looking over the simple talisman. He let the beads roll in his fingers.  He expected more, something more ornate than these simple mala. He counted each bead slowly, folding himself over as he tried to steady his breath.

 

His first item was simple.  Prayer beads from the local temple.  A simple task that should have been completed without being caught.  Why Ogundimu wanted something so simple as wooden beads, he would not understand. But then again, he did not have to.

 

Ogundimu’s voice rang loudly in his ears  “I have tasked you with silently taking things that amuse me, nothing more. You are in no position to disobey me.”

 

He let out a breathy chuckle and winced.  The side of his gi was torn open, exposing his right side to the elements. The monk had more fight in him that he expected. He did not expect the sharp, hurling object to come from his right and hit him with all the force of a baseball.

 

He clutched his side tighter. His vision wavering around the edges.  He barely got away. He was still unsure how it was he managed to slip away, but he had, leaving the monk lying there in the middle of the room.

 

Not moving.

 

His stomach lurched again. He could not hold it back.

 

Was it murder if it was an omnic? Did that thing even possess a soul?

 

Hanzo covered his mouth and let out a rasping cough as he doubled over again.

 

“Ya know, vomiting in the street is really unbecoming of a master thief,” Hanzo’s head snapped up as he heard an amused chuckle from nearby. The Mystery Man gave a slight wave with his fingers as he snickered louder at Hanzo’s disdain. He sat on top of a closed dumpster, swinging his legs wide and causing the empty container to bong with every kick of his well-polished shoes.

 

“How did you find me?” He snarled. His voice sounded raw. Hoarse. He scowled deeper, clutching at the mala in his hand tighter.

 

“I could tell you that, but I think we both know it’s because I am a damned good thief,” The Mystery Man leaped from his perch and sauntered closer.

 

Hanzo scowled deeply and stood up straight.  His retort was lost though as sharp pain radiated from his side. He doubled over, groaning loudly as the hot ache burned under his skin. His hands clutched to his side as he gritted his teeth. Vomit rose in his throat again.

 

“Hey-hey,” Hands were on his back, pulling him closer as the soft timbre of the man’s voice shushed his protests away.  “Ok, after that night, I went looking for you. Let’s just say I have people and when you were spotted I was informed.”

 

“Why should you care?” Hanzo grunted out a wheezing retort. “

 

“For one, you were tasked with robbin’ the same place I was. Gonna go out on a limb here and say the same guy that hired me hired you. There was too much of a coincidence there.”  The hands rolled in soft circles down to his side. Hanzo yelped in pain at the slight press. “Fuck, that’s bad.”

 

“My health is satisfactory. I require rest and nothing more,”  Hanzo felt the sweat on his forehead trickle down his neck. It felt unnatural.

 

He could feel the fever prickle against this skin, even as the Mystery Man spoke the words, “Could have broken a rib there with as hard as you were hit.”

 

“Then I have broken a rib. There is not much to be done about it but rest,” Hanzo snapped. “I am not in the mood to be coddled right now.”

 

“Well I ain’t in any mood to deal with bullshit,” The Mystery Man snapped. “You ain’t the only one who is entitled to a shitty ass day, so fucking deal with my generosity. I don’t like you much, asshole, but we got a camaraderie happening here. I have a feeling we are both being fucked over, and I for one don’t like that.”

 

Hanzo looked up at his masked face, his neatly trimmed mustache, and beard, both slicked and styled like the man’s dark hair and honey colored eyes.  He nodded slowly as his breath caught in his throat. “Agreed,” He managed.

 

The Mystery Man gave a curt nod.  His arm slipped easily around his middle and slowly he maneuvered him along.  “Never once saw a monk beat up a ninja before, ‘cept in Asian action movies. Ya ever watch Jackie Chan?”

 

Hanzo groaned.

 

“This is the quietest I ever got ya before,”  The Mystery man continued. “While you are incapacitated, I gotta tell you; Demon Thief is such a cliched, terrible name. Nobody wants to hear it. It’s almost as bad as Mariachi Bandit.”

 

“Please stop.”

 

“See, I was always more impressed with the name ‘La Muerte’.”

 

__________

 

Genji sighed as he stepped back up the temple steps. His arms hung heavily at his sides as his feet dragged him along.  He had expected the meeting to be difficult. He had not expected the fresh wave of anger and guilt to bubble up inside him and overflow from him like a fount.

 

He had excused himself soon after Akande had finished his tale, citing his need to patrol the streets.  Maybe he would tonight. Or maybe he would just get back to the house and drop into a week-long coma and hope that everything would work itself out on its own.

 

He could hope.

 

He slid shut the door as quietly as possible when he stepped into the house, not willing to call out, just in case the two goons from the night before were still here.  Zenyatta had made mention of taking the quietness of the cloister to quietly reflect and meditate without the concern of others needing him.

 

He had mentioned for Genji to inform him upon his return, but it suddenly felt like too much.  The monk had offered to give him shelter for as long as he needed. That the Shambali brothers and sisters would be pleased to have a visitor stay with them, just as long as he was willing to pull his load and help out when needed.

 

After all, he was only human. And as such, he could perform some tasks with greater clarity than the omnics. Genji still was not certain what sort of things he could do that the omnics were unable to, but his curiosity outweighed his anxiety and he agreed.

 

Genji carefully toed off his shoes and set them neatly next to the door before grabbing a pair of house slippers and putting them on.

 

Zenyatta would be disappointed if he had not at least said he had returned. He took a deep breath and started down the shadowy hallway.  Without Zenyatta near, suddenly the walls seemed to expand further on than he remembered. The noises grew louder, more observable than ever before.  A light clicking, creaking whine barely registered on his ears and he forced himself to stop. “Zen?” He called out.

 

The scratching continued. A light noise, like fingers scraping along the floor.

 

Panic welled inside him and he called out again with no answer.  Quickly, he began to throw open doors, wishing to see his friend sitting in deep meditation. He wanted to see that slight tilt of his head as that serene face turned toward him and casually trilled with laughter, amused over Genji’s needless worry. But room after room laid bare. “Zen!” He called out again.

 

The end of the hall, he finally threw open the last door. The room had once been a formal dining room, set to accommodate a large cloister of nuns. The monks converted it to a room of quiet reflection, covering the windows and letting the soothing darkness empty their minds of the worldly troubled. The room was illuminated with quiet golden flickers of candles, housed in tiny clutches to dim their light and give the room a meditative glow.

 

In the center of the room lay a heap on the ground.  

 

Genji let out a yelp and dove towards him. “Zen!” Zenyatta’s long fingers twitched and scraped slowly against his floor as Genji pulled him up, into his arms.  “Zenyatta!” He shouted again. He monk twitched feebly in his arms as his fingers slowly gripped against the young man.

 

“Genji?”  He managed slowly, his voice sounding distant and far off.  

 

“Yeah, I’m here,” Genji felt it then, fresh hot tears rolling down his cheeks as he pulled the monk closer in his arms.  The panic rushed through him, choking him of breath as he rocked the omnic in his arms slowly. “I’m here Zenyatta, don’t die.”

 

Zenyatta groaned slightly as he was shifted.  “My friend, do not worry.I just require healing.”

 

Laughter burst from his chest. High, breathy laughter as he sobbed and clutched the man tighter to him.  “Oh, holy shit. Holy shit.”

 

“Genji,” Zenyatta’s fingers danced over his arm, not grasping at all, light feathery touches that moved slowly across his skin. Genji shivered at the contact and pulled him in tighter.  “That was not a joke. My servos have been disconnected and I am unable to control parts of my body. I require assistance.” The omnic said a little more sternly before finally adding “Please.”

 

Genji nodded and let out another loud sob as he clutched at him.  “I thought. You were laying there, and there were candles. I couldn’t hear you.” He babbled as he pulled back. He released his friend and Zenyatta lurched forward. Genji caught him and held him close. “Uh-”

 

A light chuckle came from Zenyatta. His head nuzzled into the crook of Genji’s neck. A dark flush crept onto his cheeks as Zenyatta spoke  “Lay me on my front. I can walk you through my maintenance. I promise I am not terribly complicated.”

 

Slowly, Genji lowered him down, making sure to place his hands near his head and trying to make Zenyatta as comfortable as possible. “What happened?”

 

“A man- the Demon Thief,” Zenyatta’s voice sounded small with a slight echo to it as if he were speaking to Genji from the other side of a long tunnel.  “I was in here meditating when he attacked.”

 

“He just attacked you?”  Genji’s hand rolled over the omnic’s back. He could see the damage now, red cables dangled uselessly outside of his back chassis, exposed to the air.  He stepped aside and flipped on the lights, drowning the peaceful room in harsh, artificial light.

 

Zenyatta hummed, turning his head to the side as he watched Genji return to kneeling next to him.  “I do not understand it. He did not full-on attack me, it was more like he assumed I was in deep meditation. He stood in front of me for a good number of minutes. I did not acknowledge him at all. I stayed still.  My hope was that he came for the collection plate.”

 

Genji slowly worked out the disconnected wires, counting them slowly as he tried to get an understanding of Zenyatta’s framework. He swallowed and felt the flush creep down his neck as he worked.  “You would have just let him take your donations?”

 

“Monetary things can be replaced,” Zenyatta let out a loud gasp as Genji’s fingers roamed to the small of his back to the line of neatly exposed red wires.  Genji flinched back, afraid he had damaged him further, shouting out an apology. “It is me that should apologize, I did not expect your hands to be so...cold. Please continue.”

 

Genji worked slowly as he reattached the wires, slowly plugging them back into their sockets.  Gradually, the clicking of servos inside the monk slowed back to their usual, meditative hum. “So why did he attack you?”

 

Zenyatta fell silent.  Slowly, he folded his arms under his head and dropped his head forward.  “It was foolish and I should have let him just take what he was after.”Genji let his hand rest between his shoulder blades and waited.  A shudder ran through the omnic’s core that felt very much like an exhale of breath. “Prayer beads.”

 

“Prayer beads?”  Genji blinked. “Like, those wooden ones I see all of you using?”

 

Zenyatta hummed again, “He reached for them and I-I reacted.” Another shudder rolled through the omnic’s body. Genji pressed his hand down firmly again while the other moved to continue connecting wires back in place.  “Again, I understand it was foolish of me to react.”

 

“Why?”  Genji asked. A simple question, but he could feel the weight of it press into the man under him.

 

“Because they are not mine. In that moment, I reacted. I allowed emotions to overtake my logic and I…” The monk’s voice faded away. The fans below his outer core whirred to life as Genji plugged in another of the cords.  

 

“He did not mean to harm me,” Zenyatta added.  “I believe he was as shocked as I was to his presence.  I grabbed his arm and twisted him away, and he attacked me back. He made a wild grab, and managed to get me on my back and…” His voice faded away again.

 

“And he incapacitated you,” Genji finished for him.

 

He continued to work in silence, praying that his friend never asked how he understood so well how to reconnect wires inside an omnic.  While Genji prided himself on his exploits, somehow admitting to an omnic religious man (who probably spent his entire life expounding his vow of celibacy) that Genji had once taken an omnic to bed and in doing so learned some more creative ways to pass the time with another.

 

The blush would not relent. His entire face he knew would be cherry red and he could not look down at the man that casually laid under him, watching his every move as he carefully put the omnic back together again. He tried to ignore the tiny chirps that emanated from the other as his fingers brushed along the inside of his chassis, those cute little noises that-

 

“The mala wasn’t yours?” Genji blurted out, trying to break the silence.

 

Zenyatta pushed himself up a fraction, keeping Genji’s fingers on his body as he spoke.  “They were entrusted to me, but they are not mine. Were not mine,” he corrected. “They belonged to the former leader of our sect.”

 

“Former?”

 

“He has passed on,” Zenyatta stated clearly, his voice gaining its regular register. “I miss him dearly.”

 

A pang tore through his heart at those words. He sat back as the final wire was connected back into place and neatly tucked back into his chassis where it belonged.  He wrapped his arms around his folded knees.

 

Zenyatta slowly sat up, flexing his fingers, then his arms, testing their connection.  “You said you were going out to find answers to that issue that has been troubling you. Were you successful?” His head tilted slightly to the side, as it had every time he ever asked a question.

 

Genji felt his heart flutter a little at the minuscule gesture. “I did get some answers, yes. But everything is still as muddied as it was before. I don’t know what do do with my brother. I don’t think I can forgive him.”  The hold on his knees tightened.

 

“He is your brother,”  Zen crossed his legs in front of him and placed his hands on his knees as he stared intently at Genji. “There is nothing that he could do that is beyond forgiveness.”

 

He could feel it still, the tightness in his back where the old scars had healed over. They faded and stretched over time. Some even faded away entirely. Still, he knew they were there. Ugly. Gabe had said his mind blocked the accident. Brains were funny like that, they would protect you from things that could hurt you more. So he forgot. At eighteen, Hanzo had taken him out, It was a birthday present, a rite of passage he called it. He covered his horrid, mangled back with the beautiful green dragon. “We are Shimada’s,” Hanzo said, holding his hand as the artist worked, carving the image into his skin the traditional way, using him as a canvas for something elegant. Something he could be proud of showing.

 

Still, underneath the scars remained. A reminder from Hanzo. A warning and a threat still.  He could do it again.

  



	9. A modest proposition

Awkward was the best way to describe the tension that mounted between the Mystery Man and Hanzo.  He groaned and leaned further into the other. The Mystery Man’s grip tightened on his arm. Hanzo was sure that hand was the only thing currently keeping him upright.

 

Pain cracked through his side with every unfocused step he took as the Mystery Man dragged him along, taking Hanzo into deeper parts of the city he hardly knew existed.  The red brick buildings constructed at the turn of the century disappeared as the Mystery Man turned down an unfamiliar side street, leading them deeper into the city where the buildings slowly began to droop and crack. Warehouses sat, squat, ugly and abandoned. The grout and mortar all but eroded from the face of the buildings, leaving them a dingy white.  Dirty.

 

The Mystery Man seemed to know his way. He turned them towards a low building. Plywood covered blocked the windows and doors, and a wire fence surrounded the place, cautioning that this was a hard hat only zone.  It did not seem to perturb him in the slightest as he moved to a corner of the chainlink fence and pulled at a section of it back just enough to push them both through.

 

A clammy sweat broke out over Hanzo’s forehead. His breath came out in short, angered puffs.  He wanted to beg for a pause. He felt heavy and hot and chilled all at once. The man did not stop though as he dragged his broken body through the front door and into the dark, dank mess of the abandoned space.

 

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting.  He sank further against the other’s body as his knee buckled inward and he collapsed into the other man’s strong arms.  He hated how weak he was. How utterly humiliating it was to not be able to hold himself upright with all the proud grace he should have as a Shimada.  

 

Hanzo cursed quietly in Japanese.

 

The masked vigilante just grunted in reply and pushed Hanzo against a cold metal counter before wrapping his arms around him and lifted him up until he was on top of it and could lay down.  Hanzo wanted to protest the simple treatment. He tried to push the man away and curse him out, but his tongue failed him, only letting out a shuttering whine of pain before he curled in on himself.

 

The Mystery Man moved away, removing his dark hat and setting it on another counter before stepping out of Hanzo’s line of sight and into another part of the building.

 

He had to trust the man now.  He had to put his faith in a man he barely knew.

 

Weakly, Hanzo let his gaze roam, taking in the dirty space for himself.  Graffiti claiming ‘Deadlock wuz here’ littered the wall in reds and gold with crudely drawn skull and bones motifs, an emblem he recognized from other parts of the city. These though carried a thick layer of grime over them. The red faded to a muted brown and flaked off the old concrete walls. Old tags that had been abandoned by the gang ages ago, if they had ever been here.  A basketball lay in a dusty corner, it too grayed out from the dust and bleached a lighter peach color from the sun. It also had been abandoned. 

 

Other things were loitering in the corners of the room, left abandoned and unwanted. Space was preserved, almost like a temple.  A sunken in mattress lay on the floor, covered with a tattered red blanket that was threadbare. Next to it was a stuffed dog, flattened and blackened with mold.  

 

Hanzo’s breath caught, feeling suddenly like he intruded on something deeply personal that no mortal was meant to witness. It was cold here. Quiet.  This was not a temple, it was a tomb.

 

The Mystery Man returned with an armful of things and carefully began to arrange them on the slab next to Hanzo without saying a word.  His mouth was downturned in a frown, but not one that held malice or anger. One that conveyed sheer focus.

 

Every shallow intake of breath sent pins and needles jolting up Hanzo’s side that blossomed in pain and slowly settled as a dull ache.  He resisted the urge to breathe until necessary, gradually drawing in air through his mouth.

 

His eyes turned upward as the man turned and moved over him, touching his forehead and peering down into Hanzo’s dark, masked face.  He nodded slightly as if reassuring himself that Hanzo would not internally bleed out in the next few minutes, before leaving the room once again.

 

Hanzo could hear his footsteps trailing off as he mounted a set of stairs and moved to the second floor of the building where his footfalls fell into silence.

 

He was left alone again, staring at the plywood boarded windows where light from the sun cracked through the seams and filtered into the space in soft white beams. He watched the dust their presence kicked up swirl in the light as if dancing at their presence.  

 

The damp coldness that seeped through the walls and settled deep into his bones. The kind of chill that lingered far past discomfort and left him feeling empty and just as abandoned as the warehouse.  

 

He closed his eyes as he took in another shuddering breath.

 

It had been years since he last visited them. Ojisan had been adamant to build them a vast, black marble sepulcher. As a boy, it terrified him. The rod iron door that was bolted shut, keeping them both chained inside what appeared to be a prison. He could see his reflection in the polished stone siding. See when his uncle moved behind him and laid a solid, hard hand on his quaking shoulder as he leaned down and whispered that this was to be an altar for his sins. A reminder of how this...this was his fault.

 

“Hey,” A warm hand on his cheek pulled him back. He gasped and heard his ribs creek inside his chest.  Pain exploded. The breath punched out of his lungs until his chest burned. Those hands, moved swiftly, holding him down with a soft grip he knew could turn to iron instantly. 

 

The man was saying something more. Something further, but Hanzo could not distinguish past the change in tone. The sharpness that came to those muffled words as the world darkened around the edges as the coldness seeped further up his body, past his fingers and toes and settled deeper.

 

___________

 

Zenyatta chortles as he waved the larger man away, claiming that his sensors detected a chill in the air, but that did not mean it affected him.

 

Genji could see the frown, even behind the black facial mask that obstructed the lower half of his face before the large man shed his leather coat and draped it around the Omnic Monk’s lap with a look that threatened bodily harm if he protested.

 

Luckily, Zenyatta just emitted a sigh of resignation and leaned his head forward, letting the smaller of the duo continue to work behind him.

 

Genji was at a loss of what to do. Finding Zenyatta nearly unconscious, his wiring in disarray that he had to reestablish left the man feeling completely unprepared. Even after the omnic protested his doing so, Genji went and contacted the first number he could find that was not another omnic.  

 

He was grateful that they answered.  He was less appreciative when the duo of miscreants was at the monastery door in a matter of minutes. Mako filled the entire frame of the door as he buffaloed his way into the front entry, followed by the skittering of the smaller man behind him and up the stairs before Genji could protest. 

 

“Bucket of bolts,” Jamie frowned, a screwdriver clenched between his teeth as he worked on Zenyatta’s back. “I could completely offline ya now and ain’t nothing you can do to stop me.”  His fingers jabbed under the panel at Zenyatta’s back.

 

The omnic’s fingers clenched at his knees as his fans whirred hard. Genji could feel the discomfort radiating off the other as the array on his forehead flashed brightly before he could pull it back under his control.  Zenyatta’s voice faltered as he let out a strained chuckle. His voice sounding more distant than usual. “I am at your mercy, Jamison. I must trust you to take care of me.”

 

Mako grunted. He crossed his thick arms over his chest as he frowned further, his gaze turning to his companion.

 

Jamie’s eyes were wide as they slowly moved up the other’s frame.  “A joke, a joke,” He let out a tittering laugh, and his hands slowed.  Genji watched as he began to move with more care, connecting his wires back neatly and thoughtfully deep in his frame, correcting the work that Genji sought to do and failed.  He moved closer, watching the small hands work around the intricate interior of Zenyatta’s back and Genji felt a perverse fascination at watching his insides whir and click inside the chrome frame.

 

He remembered when he was twelve, and he fell out of a tree.  He landed on it just right, re-breaking the healing bone, leaving it jaggedly sticking up through his skin.   

They had wanted to put him under. He did not want to sleep in a hospital again, afraid of what he would wake up to.   It was Jack that eventually told the doctor to just do the damn surgery and let the boy stay awake. Numb him up and get it done.  The pain had been blinding, but he watched, transfixed as the doctors work to fix him up, fascinated at the intricate network of muscle and tendons that went on just under his skin. 

 

“Like what ya see?”  Jamie elbowed him hard in the ribs and gave him a lewd smile followed by a waggle of his eyebrows.  

 

Genji frowned and looked away, feeling the blush creep high on his cheeks as he was caught gawking.  “Amazed that you know what you are doing,” He retorted.

 

Mako let out a grunt of what could have been laughter.  “Rat’s good at machines,” He answered as the smaller man frowned and turned back to his work. His face went cherry red from his shoulders up through his ears. “Tell ‘em,” Mako grunted.

 

Jamie frowned deeper, his eyebrows knitting on his forehead as he seemed to sink further into the oversized hoodie he wore. He suckled at the end of the screwdriver, suddenly making it appear like he couldn’t talk with the tool in between his teeth.

 

“Tell ‘em!”  Mako insisted louder, making Genji jump at the command.

 

Jamie did not seem phased as he slowly removed the screwdriver and began to the task of tightening the plate at Zenyatta’s back.  “Granted special permissions to go to classes and got kicked out.” His eyes were focused hard on Zenyatta’s back. “Called me stupid things then gave me stupid homework.”

 

Genji blinked, trying to connect the pieces he was given together.  “You went to...school?”

 

Mako let out a wheezing laugh and slapped his knee.  “Never graduated high school. Given permission to go to special engineering classes, that one. Kicked out in the first semester for building a bomb.”

 

Jamie jabbed the end of the screwdriver over Zenyatta’s shoulder and at Mako. “Excuse me? I never  _ built  _ that bomb. I just,” he waved the tool in his hand around like a conductor’s baton as he searched his mind for the correct word.  “Envisioned a bomb and created a prototype. Ain’t illegal.”

 

“Police didn’t much like seeing his research into the power grid much either,” Mako guffawed and sat back, almost proud of the antics of his friend, as if domestic terrorism was something to be proud of.  “Let him off though. Ain’t no proof he done any of it.”

 

Jamie slapped Zenyatta’s back and stood up. “That’s enough of that,” He proclaimed and stretched his arms high over his head, his back cracking loudly before he settled back into his hunched posture.  

 

Zenyatta hummed approvingly and flexed his fingers.  “And you have not left me any surprises?” He turned his face up to the other.

 

Jamie laughed, his eyes flickering between the three sets trained on him.  “You leave one little prank in someone once and suddenly-”

 

“Jamison,” Mako’s voice held that same solid gruffness from a moment ago, and Jamie deflated.

 

“I ain’t leaving you nothing that wasn’t in there originally,” He muttered.  “Just put you right.” 

 

Genji let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and relaxed.

 

“Why would anyone attack you though,” Jamie grunted out, shoving his hands far into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. “I mean, besides the obvious.”

 

Zenyatta folded his hands in front of him, over the worn leather of the coat and peered down, his fingers playing with the collar absentmindedly.  “I am unsure.” He said after holding the pause for a moment too long. He was lying. “I am grateful that you were nearby. Genji did a fine job of helping put me back together, but I hope this settles the last of the doubts of his abilities. I am sure Genji can show you, gentleman, out. I am rather worn out and would like to recalibrate my systems.” 

 

Mako reached down and retrieved his coat as Jamie draped a blanket over his shoulders, ignoring his earlier statement of not being bothered by the cold. Zenyatta tipped his head further down, and the lights of his array began to slowly pulse a teal-ish blue as his fans began to whir.

 

“Too right,” Jamie whispered as they stepped into the hall.  “What’n the world could a thief steal from these monks? They ain’t got nothin’ of value ‘except their core. An’ that shit’s nuclear.”  He crossed his arms over his chest and hit Genji with a hard glare, expecting an answer.

 

Genji cleared his throat and shrugged.  He held open the front door for both men as they stepped down the front stairs and onto the cleared path. “Zen said he just took some prayer beads off of him.  They can’t be that valuable. I mean-” He trailed off and shrugged, at a loss for answers.

 

If the two men had any justification to the attack, they hid it well, looking just as puzzled as Genji as they shrugged their shoulders and started away.   

 

“Omnic hater,” Mako finally grunted, turning back.  “No other reason to steal a dead monk’s mala.”

 

__________

 

Warmth.  It poured over Hanzo light the lightest of rainfalls, settling against his skin and bathed him in a tender gentleness that slowly pulled him out of what felt like a deep sleep.

 

“Ya back with me?”  Came the soft drawl.  Hands were on his shoulders, pulling him upright and out of the comforting prone position he held as soft leather tapped lightly against his cheek.  He groaned angerly and pushed the hand away. He was awake.

 

Hanzo peeled open his eyes and found himself in warm summer sunlight…

 

No, his mind slowly processed the golden glow around him. The soft light particles settling against his skin and dissolving like snowflakes, tender against his skin. He flexed his fingers, finding the mild joint pain eliminated before turning his attention to his side.

 

Hanzo gingerly lifted the end of his shirt up and gazed down at the horrifyingly purple and red abrasion, still angry against his side. It hurt less.

 

“How-” He started.

 

“Bionic emitter,”  The Mystery Man stated quietly. His gloved hands moved to Hanzo’s side and prodded gently. Hanzo grunted at the flash of pain. “Old one. Not as effective, but it’ll get the job done. Take off your shirt. I wanna get a good look at you.”

 

Heat flashed against his cheeks, and his hand shot up to his face. He sighed in relief as he felt the silk mask still secure in place.  

 

The Mystery Man chuckled, “I got some honor left in me.  Didn’t seem right, unmasking you and all. Not when you were crying on the table. Take off your shirt,” He repeated his earlier demand, this time with a sternness to his voice. 

 

Hanzo frowned at the remark but chose not to respond.  The bionic emitter felt good. He did not want the man to remove its healing qualities. Not yet. He shook his head though and lifted the side of his shirt higher.  “This is the only injury of note,” He grunted. His tattoo was distinctive. It was always the first thing people noticed about him. The first thing they commented on.  As Hanzo Shimada, he was proud of the ink. Proud of the traditional way it was implemented onto his skin, showing the painstaking hours it took to produce with each tiny detail, each swirling cloud erected onto his skin.

 

No, he could never show that off here.  Not while he was this masked thief. Not next to this Mystery Man who had no formal name and had those sharp eyes behind that black leather mask. 

 

“Have it your way,” The man let out a huff or resignation and leaned down, letting his fingers continue to prod at Hanzo’s side.  “It’s old,” He gestures to the upright canister that administered the healing glow. “Probably on its last legs.”

 

Hanzo nodded in agreement.  He had witnessed the miracle of bionic healing before once before, sitting in the ambulance and watching the EMTs work diligently on...  Back then the technology was in its infancy, used not to heal wounds but to stabilize a patient. Keep them alive for just long enough to keep them teetering on the edge of life and death. “How did you get ahold of a bionic emitter?” He found himself asking as a spike of pain radiates up his side as he felt the muscles inside twisting. Sweat broke out across his forehead.

 

The Mystery Man just let out another chuckle.  “Would you believe I inherited it. My old man died and left me with a box of old army surplus stuff.  Sold most of it to eat, but there were a few good things. He must’ve swiped it from the army.”

 

“I have only seen it in hospitals,” Hanzo felt the need to talk. To get his mind away from the reforming tissue inside him that moved at a snail’s pace.

 

The Mystery Man only nodded.  “Army gave them out too, like this one. Field medic type of stuff. It’s easier to keep a soldier from dying when you get a boost of good old magical science bullshit. It’s my favorite toy. Keeps away awkward conversations at the ER.”

 

“I have been lucky to avoid needing that,” Hanzo rolled his shoulders back, finding his range of motion slowly returning.

 

“Bullshit,” The vigilante pulled Hanzo’s shirt back down.  “That right there should have put you straight into the ER.  Chances are real good that monk has called the police already and they are waiting for some asshole to drop into their laps with a collapsed lung and broken ribs. You are damn lucky I was there.”

 

Hanzo was quiet. It sounded almost as if the other man was scolding him.

 

“And this,”  The Mystery Man tugged at the sleeve of his gi.  “This is the worst possible thing you could wear.  No armor. No protection from the elements or bullets or a fall. This is just silk. What the hell are you thinking with this as your uniform? And that mask-”

 

It was a scolding.  Hanzo frowned and looked down.  “It is not like I chose to go down this path,” He spat out, cutting off the man’s tirade.  

 

The Mystery Man’s eyebrow quirked up.  He stood up straight and folded his arms over his chest and waited for Hanzo to continue.

 

“It is not even mine,” Hanzo spat out. He tugged at the silk sleeve himself, scowling at the dark fabric. “It is a curse.”

 

“Shit,”  There was amusement in the mystery man’s voice as he reached over and flicked off the bionic emitter.  Hanzo expected the cold of winter to hit him again, except it never came. The space was blissfully warm.  “Don’t get dramatic on me now, Demon Thief.”

 

Hanzo’s eyes snapped up, “That is not my name.”

 

“Like hell, it ain’t. You are what the people on the TV call you.  You don’t get a choice in your name. Not when you are running from the cops on the ten o’clock news.  Now focus up and tell me. I saved your hide,” he added. “You owe me.”

 

Hanzo wanted to look away from that intense gaze. He tried to punch the man in the gut and flee. Wanted to hide back in his tiny antique store and brood.  The man was right though, that inner voice spoke softly, the one that sounded distinctly like his father. This man was owed something. 

 

Hanzo’s throat felt dry as he weighed where to start. His eyes drifted back to the dark swirling pattern on the generations-old silk.  “My father was the Demon. He was the thief. I do not live up to that standard.”

 

He waited for the other man to interrupt, then continued on.  “He was a master thief. Never once was he caught. Never was he seen by any mortal unless he chose to be seen. He was afraid of nothing.”

 

“Sounds familiar to me,” The Mystery Man stated. “I’ve been tracking your sorry ass for a while. Best thief I’ve seen in a long time, present company included. Hell, the only thing you lack is experience as far as I’m concerned.”

 

Hanzo blinked up at that. 

 

The Mystery man continued, a smirk on his face.  “Most thieves get caught in their first job. You decide to rob a museum and end up right up there with the great villains of the city on your first damn sting. It’s impressive.”

 

“How long have you been following me?” Hanzo demanded. He felt the heat flush up the back of his neck at the compliment. 

 

“Couple of months, off and on. Since our first meeting. You took that painting, the one of the countess from the museum.  See, a few months ago I was called up to knick that exact piece, and I turned it down for...personal reasons.” Hanzo caught the slight pause in his candor.  It lasted less than a second, but it was there, looming among his words. “I figured that Akande and went and got himself a fresh new boy toy to boss around. I wanted to know more.

 

Hanzo scowled deeply at the term ‘boy toy.’ “So you are on his payroll.”

 

The vigilante let out a low huff that could have been laughter. “Not anymore. Never was official. Once upon a time, Ogundimu wanted to make me his little bitch, but I cut free as soon as possible. As soon as I knew that getting in deeper with that man meant I was never getting out.”

 

Hanzo swallowed.  He saw his opportunity and decided to press his luck, “I told you about my beginning. Tell me yours.”

 

The Mystery Man let out a bark of bitter laughter.  “You told me you swiped that uniform from your daddy. That ain’t a backstory. That’s a footnote. I’ll tell you this though, Akande Ogundimu is nothing but bad news.  I went to him when I was in a bad place. I was angry at the world and hurt and alone. All I wanted was justice, and I heard he was a man with all answers.

 

“You are a pain in my ass, but I just want you to know what you are getting yourself into here. Whatever he has promised you, it’s a lie. He is selfish and greedy and will leave you taking all the blame for everything. He will leave you bone dry in the desert and let the vultures have at you.”

 

The Mystery Man paused and looked up.  He let out a puff of air as if setting his resolve before looking back to Hanzo.  “It was just after that big terrorist attack,” He explained slowly. “Lots of people were dead after the dust settled.  They recorded the death toll at thirteen, but after the fallout. After everything, the numbers rose and rose. Everyone in the city was impacted in some way or some form.  I was angry. I could not control that anger that built inside of me and one day I went to that man, all decked out in a fancy new persona, to get some answers.

 

“It started small,” The Mystery Man continued.  “Probably like with you. A list of things to pilfer and a timetable to get them all back.  I wasn’t to ask questions, just get my grubby little hands on those things, and he would slowly feed me answers.  

 

“I was like a starving man, and he would give me enough to wet my appetite. Small bits of information. The contractors set to rebuild. The doctors who inventoried the dead. Who was still missing in the rubble and who had been found.  Things that the police would not have given out. At the time, I let my rage eat away at my soul so much, that anything felt like it was enough. I felt like finally, someone was helping me find my lost family that I didn’t see the ante climb.  

 

“Suddenly, I was asked to get bigger and bigger things for less and less.  I would be bringing him dozens of stolen items and getting common information that led me further down the rabbit hole and never satisfying what I really needed. One day I woke up and realized how deep I had gotten myself.  He was using an angry dumb kid,” The Mystery Man’s voice warbled as anger seeped into his tone. He turned away and began to pace. His fingers flexed restlessly at his side. “He’s doing the same to you.”

 

“How did you get away?”  Hanzo found himself asking, his voice terribly quiet.  

 

The vigilante stopped his movements.  He turned back to Hanzo. “I dumped my old persona.  I realized that he saw me as nothing but this Deadlock gangbanger in a mask. I wasn’t a person. I was a….a thing.  I laid low for a while, then got myself fancy new clothes.”

 

“You still work for him,” Hanzo scowled.

 

“Freelance.”  He nodded. “There is no attachment to money.  He pays well enough and…” He trailed off before striding right back to Hanzo’s side.  He placed both hands on either side of the table and framed the other’s body with his own, his dark eyes piercing Hanzo’s own.  “What I’m getting at here is I can help you. Make you a new persona, one Ogundimu won’t recognize. Get out from under his thumb.”

 

Hanzo looked away. He heard the hitch in the other’s breath.  “I know someone,” His voice sounded almost pleading. “Can hook you up with a new suit. Something nicer. More sturdy. Make you disappear.” His hand flashed up and caught Hanzo’s chin and turned him back to face the Mystery Man head on, locking those intense eyes to his own.  “Give you something more interesting than wearing Daddy’s old clothes and a scarf with holes cut in it for eyes.”

 

Hanzo felt the heat flash up his face at the raw energy from the man’s soft words. He was so close, Hanzo could smell the sweet aroma of tobacco and sage that flittered of the other man. He could not breathe.  Could not move.

 

“You hold yourself like a man that demands the reverence of others, but you dress like someone living in the shadow of the ideal they could never reach. Disappear.”  His last word was barely above a whisper.

 

Hanzo swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and the other man’s gaze flickered down to his neck.  He waited on baited breath for the Mystery man to close that short gap that distanced them. He was so close. So dangerously close.

 

“I cannot,”  He finally whispered out.  The hand still holding his chin tightened a fraction.  “He holds too much.”

 

“What could he possibly hold over you,” The Mystery Man asked. His touch felt so light against Hanzo’s skin.  It left him feeling weightless under his soft hands. 

 

Hanzo felt the smile rise to his lips.  “He paroled me from a lifetime in prison. Had the charges cleared and buried the truth of who I am. He knows who I truly am. If I were to leave, what would he do to me? To those, I am trying to protect?”

 

The Mystery Man’s gaze lingered low on Hanzo’s chest. His hand slowly dropped down, framing the thick column of Hanzo’s neck with the soft, gloved fingers.  “Ain’t that a pickle.”

 

Hanzo realized his hands were tightly gripping the edge of the metal workbench under him.  He felt the soft pad of the man’s thumb crawl across the soft divot in his collarbone. He desperately wanted to feel those strong arms pull him tightly in and kiss away the loneliness that settled inside him. Make him disappear.

 

“Do you know who I am?”  He found himself asking quietly.

 

The man stepped away, out of his space and left him aching in the cold.  He shook his head. “I have my integrity as a thief. I said I wouldn’t look and I haven’t.

 

Hanzo nodded. He watched the Mystery Man tear his gaze away and felt the familiar isolation settle back into its comfortable space inside his chest. 

 

He was better off alone.

 

_________

 

Even though Zenyatta insisted that his brothers and sisters not know about the assault, Genji hadn’t the resolve to keep it from them and contacted them straight away about the incident with the thief.  They insisted on returning early (Much to Zenyatta’s chagrin). 

 

Genji liked the warmth his Omnic brothers and sisters naturally carried with them. He did not even seem to realize the migration into the fold until he realized one day that he had his own room there and the fridge was always stocked full of food.

 

They took his wants and needs into consideration and, for once, he felt like he truly belonged. There was a kindness to this community.  

 

The semester continued on under Zenyatta’s persistence, citing a need for a solid foundation of education. Work continued on, except now, he wasn’t under the thumb of his brother.  He felt a sense of belonging in the quiet tranquility of the sanctuary.

 

The comfort that came from living here, with these people who cared about him and did not lie and would not keep things from him.  The pleasure of being near Zenyatta, who seemed to draw in more on himself since his attack.

 

Zenyatta…

 

“Ji ji?” Hana tapped from inside his computer screen, and his eyes were turned back to the group in front of him.   Her whole face filled the screen as she frowned, her eyes trained on him before sitting back and revealing the other two still in her dorm.

 

Outside the wind howled and the icy rain rattled against the closed window, confirming the bitterness of the night. It was too bitter for any of them to hold their regular study session in the library, and while Lucio offered to house Genji for the night, he gratefully declined. His room at the monastery, he stated, was far too comfortable and he did not wish to worry any of the monks about his presence.

 

“Sorry,” Genji smiled and looked at the three pairs of eyes trained on him, “Just thinking.” He moved to pick up the scattered notecards in front of him detailing out some mathematical equation he was posed to solve.   

 

Lucio and Lena both sat back on Hana’s bed, their own books and notes scattered in front of them.  It was unfortunate that none of them shared a similar class this semester, but it still felt a shame to break apart and find new groups to study with.  Homework sessions became less about the actual classwork and more about socializing. The only positive side was that Hana was good at math and could tutor Genji, Lena took Lucio’s class the previous semester, and the professor never changed his notes, and Hana just wanted company while she sat with her handheld game clasped between her fingers.

 

Of the four of them, Hana never seemed to need much help.  Genji could not understand how she accomplished a full load of credits and still never seemed to struggle.  

 

“Aww,” Lena stretched her arms over the top of her head and poked the computer monitor while Hana scowled behind her.  “You are so cute when lost deep in thought.”

 

Genji flushed at being so obviously caught.  “It’s just long hours and school and a new place.” He waved it off, though he could feel exhaustion creeping into his bones. He looked at the clock. 

 

7:15.

 

Genji let out another long breath of air and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes.  He could not rest yet. He had procrastinated enough, and the work was due tomorrow. And Hana was being a brat and not just giving him the answers.

 

He wanted to go to sleep. To crash on the soft bedroll that was provided to him and curl up in the darkness. He wanted to drop into a wonderful, dreamless sleep and not wake up for a month at least. His eyelids felt heavy, threatening to droop closed with every slow blink.

“How’s your brother?” Lucio ventured.

 

The benign question pulled Genji out of his stupor, and he scowled. Lucio held up his hands in defense as Genji reached down and snatched up his phone.  There were no new notifications. There hadn’t been any in over a week. No missed calls, no texts. No flyers being pinned to the walls reporting a missing person.  Nothing. “He gave up trying to talk to me.” He answered, not even trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. “It’s not like he actually cared anyway.”

 

“Damn,” Lucio clicked his tongue and shook his head, the thick dreads spilling over his shoulder. “You know you can talk to us anytime about what happened, right? We’re your friends. We worry about you. I thought you two were thick as thieves.” He gave a little shrug as his words teetered off and hung in the air.

 

Hana snorted.  “Ji ji already refused to say what happened besides ‘we fought,’” She dropped her voice an octave as she used air quotes, mocking his tone of voice. There was a smirk on her lips though, as if she were goading him on.  “Anyway, he has more important things to worry about now. Like Zenyatta”

 

Genji couldn’t help but feel himself nod along with her words.  He did have more important things to worry about than Hanzo. Hanzo, who betrayed him and hurt him. Hanzo who lied about who he was.  No, Genji needed to be here. He needed to protect Zenyatta. The thief still had not been caught, and it worried him that he may return. It bothered him that Zenyatta may be hurt again.

 

“Aww,” Lena made another cooing noise and poked him again.  “I know that look. He gets that look in his eyes when he thinks about his boyfriend.” She burst into fits of giggles. “His eyes go all concerned and soft, and he pouts-”

  
  


“I do not pout!” The words came out as heat flushed across his cheeks as the rest of her words settled into his brain and festered.  “Boyfriend!” 

 

“Don’t tease him like that Lena,” Lucio laughed and shoved her away playfully, only to have her shove back again. “We are a little old for ‘boyfriends’ and ‘girlfriends’.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Lena playfully whopped him in the face with a pillow as she continued a tangent about Emily, her girlfriend back home. 

 

The words settled in his stomach like a rock.  Boyfriend. Is that what they thought? That his relationship with Zenyatta was that? The heat traveled down into his guts, churning as that word rolled over and over again. His stomach twisted and he felt a fluttering low in his intestines, almost like he would vomit.  

 

Boyfriend.

 

He was not even romantically linked with the other.  How could they--?

 

His gaze traveled to the three in his room. Lena and Lucio still shoved at one another, teasing about something that Genji could not process. Hana though.  Hana had sat up, the game in her hands wholly forgotten. Her dark eyes square on Genji.

 

“He’s not,” Genji started, the words coming out weaker than he anticipated. Then, the flush grew deeper as he looked back at the door slightly cracked open, allowing the light from the hallway to seep into the room. “We aren’t dating.” He stated clearly.

 

Lucio stopped and looked back, his own pillow raised up and ready to attack.  “What?” His pause left him open. The opposing pillow came down on his back hard, and he fell forward.  It did not stop him though. “What do you mean you aren’t dating?”

 

The flush grew deeper and deeper on his cheeks until Genji was sure he was cherry red.  Lena seemed to be pulled back from her mock battle as well at Lucio’s words. “You aren’t?”

 

“Well, no,” Genji felt himself stuttering at the words. He looked down at his hands. “Zen is my friend, yes. I care about him but...no...we aren’t dating.”

 

“You spend all your time with him,” Lena interjected, raising one finger.

 

“Yes-”

 

“He’s all you talk about,” the second finger went up as she barreled on, followed by a third, “You like him and he likes you.” a fourth finger “You are living together.”

 

“Well-”

 

A fifth finger, “You go out and hang out with him. Alone. On dates,”

 

“Bowling with the nuns isn’t a date-”

 

A sixth finger. “You have seen Zen every day for six months. You buy him little trinkets and gifts. You get massive goo-goo eyes whenever he is talking, and you don’t think anyone is listening.” Beside her, Lucio and Hana both slowly nodded with every new piece of evidence Lena brought up. 

 

Genji looked down and flushed harder.  

 

“Buddy,” Lucio sighed. “You got it bad for him. And he likes you. He likes you enough to have you move in with him.  I think that is all the qualifications for dating.”

 

“And fucking,” Hana stated. Loudly. “You want to fuck him.”

 

Genji’s head snapped up, past the computer monitor and to the door. The open door.

 

The house had thin walls, allowing him to hear in the night the whirring of internal fans as the omnics in the surrounding rooms recharged for the night. The thin walls that had brought many a monk into his room for every minuscule noise he uttered in the night. How every creak of his floorboards would send one of the worried omnics to his door, making sure that the organic being was not dying in their care.

 

How he had been caught at awkward moments with his muffled noises, he made in the night, leading to Zenyatta at his door inquiring if Genji were ill and needed a doctor due to the small grunts and moans he was producing.  

 

How after that, Genji resolved to stop making any sounds that could be seen as out of the ordinary.   The Omnics around him were far too concerned with his well being. Their hearing was impeccable.

 

There was absolutely zero way that someone here would have missed the lecture. Heard Lena call Zenyatta his boyfriend.  Heard Hana blatantly stating for all the world to hear that he, Genji Shimada wanted to fuck a monk with the cavalier of saying how fickle the spring weather was.

 

Her eyes did not move off of him, instead nodding with self-satisfaction that he had not rebuked her argument yet.  “See, what did I tell you.” She waved a hand dismissively at him. “That’s the real reason he is living there. 

 

Lena and Lucio at least had the decency to look as shocked as Genji, gazing wide-eyed at the third person in the room as she stood up and walked over to her computer.  “G’night, Ji ji,” Hana flashed him a peace sign. “Now that you know,” She whispered. “Stop jacking it in the night and go get some from your robo-boyfriend.”

 

The screen flashed darkly. Genji sat, transfixed by what had just taken place.  His eyes wandered to the open door, and he waited. Waited for the sound of moving people below. Of Zenyatta mounting the stairs and kicking him out for his terrible thoughts. For...something…

 

There was nothing. No noise. 

 

He carefully stood and crept to the door and peaked out down the hall. No one. Nothing.

 

His phone dinged loudly, and he practically jumped out of his skin. Winston.

 

‘Suit up,’ The text read. ‘We patrol in 15.’

 

________

 

Hanzo’s fingers clacked heavily on the keyboard as if pressing harder on the keys would give him better search results.

 

The headlines were all the same; Ms. Erza Beckett Montgomery, the last heir to the Montgomery fortune had died ringing in the new year at a healthy age of one-hundred and two years, surrounded by family and without any pain.  For most people, the story was a footnote to their day. It did not matter that the wealthiest woman in the city left a massive fortune, the only ones who did care were her heirs, and of course, they owned the local television stations, radio stations, newspapers and other ventures of business so of course, as it was with the extremely wealthy, her death made headlines.

 

Hanzo could not have cared less about the old bag. He cared about her estate. More importantly, what would happen to her belongings.

 

In front of him, perched on the end of the glass countertop was all the intel he amassed on his next target.  The old woman had to die a week before he planned on breaking into her home and relieving her of the item in question. And with the countless heirs now crawling out of the woodwork to cry out their laurels to the woman, her mansion went into a state of lockdown. 

 

When dealing with several billion dollars worth of assets, even a key would be cataloged and confined until her will could be deciphered.

 

The media said her will was airtight, but that didn’t mean her heirs did not object to its ruling, leading to daily updates on the quarreling of the remaining benefactors.

 

A ruling though was to be made today, not on her business and bank accounts, but on her material possessions.  Hanzo just needed the name of where they would be. He would iron out the rest of the details after he found the token he was after.

 

Hanzo threaded a hand through his dark hair and scowled as his fingers became trapped in the long locks.  He had not bothered to do more than just pull it back that morning and he was growing increasingly annoyed with the burden of his hair.  He managed to extract his fingers just as the bell above the door chimed.

 

Hanzo quickly shut his computer and set it below the counter with the rest of the papers. He looked up to greet the customer but paused. “Jesse-” Hanzo let out his name quietly, like a prayer.

 

Jesse lingered under the exit sign, his posture was rigid and tight. His fists clenched tight at his sides as honeyed eyes met Hanzo’s.  His lips drew in tight as if he were fighting his instincts. He made a single step forward. “You have no right, you sonofabitch” Jesse gritted out, his teeth clenched tight as he stepped forward, his accent thick. “No calls. No texts. Nothing. Avoiding me.”

 

Hanzo opened his mouth to respond only nothing came out. His hand pressed hard into the cold glass as the other man stepped right up to the counter, his belly pressed against it.  “Jesse,” He managed.

 

“No right to just cut me out like that,” Jesse continued.  “So I figured I would come to you. Where you couldn’t escape me.” His hands came down hard on the counter. Hanzo did not flinch as Jesse leaned forward.

 

He could smell the clover and sage that hung off the man like his natural musk. The sweet fragrance that reminded him of sunshine and cool fall hikes in the mountains.  Of sweet kisses in the back of a truck that lingered on his lips for days afterward.

 

He ached.  

 

Jesse balled his fist in the front of Hanzo’s shirt and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together.  Hanzo fell forward, wanting to get swallowed up in the tidal wave of emotion that crested over him.

 

All too soon, he was pushed back and met the scowling face of Jesse McCree. “Why?” He demanded.  “Why just dump me like...like an old shoe.”

 

Ache welled inside Hanzo.  He opened his mouth to speak again, wanting to explain everything to McCree. Wanting him to understand it all but it wouldn’t come.  “My brother,” He managed.

 

Jesse blinked, the scowl transforming into worry.  “Your brother?”

 

Hanzo swallowed and looked away from those sharp eyes. He barreled forward.  “He ran away. That night I...It was my fault. I should have paid more attention to what was going on around me. I should have-”  A heavy hand fell onto his own, and he realized there was a quiet tremor under his skin. He felt it all come out. “He left, and I do not wish to-”

 

“He’s all you got,” Jesse stated. 

 

Hanzo just nodded.  

 

His hand squeezed Hanzo’s lightly.  “You know-”

 

Hanzo held up his free hand, cutting the cowboy off.  “I can’t.”

 

The fire that had dissipated returned.  “You can’t or you won’t? Shit, Hanzo, the second things start to get a little serious and you bail on me?  I can help-”

 

“You can’t,” Hanzo snapped. “You have no idea what is going on and you...you cannot just barge in here and think that your can-do attitude will solve any of my problems. You can’t. I cannot do this.”

 

The corners of Jesse’s lips turned down as Hanzo watched the warmth flee from his honeyed eyes. He ached as he watched the final kindness dissipate and leave only hard, cold anger. He opened his mouth right as the bell over the door chimed again.  He stepped back. “Fine, Han. If that is what you want, fine. I ain’t gonna sit around and pine after you day after day. Just remember that you did this, not me.” Jesse shoved his hands deep into his pockets and hunched himself over as he stalked out of the store, brushing past the newcomer.

 

Hanzo felt bile rise in the back of his throat and left his stomach acidic.  He wanted to cry out and chase after him. Tell him how wrong he was. How much he wanted and needed Jesse with him.  Wanted something concrete. Something that was his but…

 

“Do you want me to come back?”  The customer drew Hanzo’s attention.  “Because I can just take my business elsewhere. I just came into a shit ton of junk, and I need cash. Quick.”

 

The man flashed a blazing, artificially white smile.  He looked like he had just come in after a night of hard partying and he had yet to retire for the evening.  His hair was, at one time, slicked back smooth, but now lay at odd angles, the gel still trying to retain its shape and failing.   His suit lay crumpled on his thin frame, crushed burgundy velvet suit coat with an undefined stain matting the plush fabric. He reminded him of Genji when the other would come home drunk and possibly high. Jovial and friendly as he berated Hanzo for not treating himself in such a way as if drunk and high were something to admonish.

 

Hanzo had to put McCree behind him.  He had to focus on getting Genji home. Regaining his trust.  “Of course. How can I be of assistance?”

 

_______ 

 

“Any news?”  Genji let his feet dangle off the edge of the roof and let the warm spring sun wash over him. He brought the messy meatball sandwich up and took a large bite as he reclined back onto his elbows, not caring if he were to make a mess of himself.

 

The chill of winter finally fell away, and the city seemed to spring back to life and joy. With it, he hoped to see a spike in anything of interest. Anything to get his mind off of petty purse snatchings and carjackings.

 

Winston sat on his other side, his face turned down to the datapad in his hands as he frowned.  “Do you mean Sentai Warrior news or the fact that your brother-”

 

“Is there any jobs out there,” Genji’s voice was curt, making it clear again that Hanzo was not a topic for conversation. “It’s been quiet, and I am worried those thieves are planning something big,” He added quickly, trying to save face.

 

The small gorilla’s eyes turned to him. He hesitated a moment before continuing on. “I don’t know what to tell you, Genji, there isn’t anything past what you have been doing.  Small robberies of convenience stores, a handful of home invasions where antiques and heirlooms were stolen, but nothing on the scale of your mysterious thieves. Their trail has been decisively cold recently.”

 

“It isn’t cold, we just don’t know about it yet,” Genji sighed. “Men like that don’t just stop. They have to be somewhere. They have to be doing something.”

 

“Have,” Winston cleared his throat and looked down.  “Have you considered that they were killed the night they fell off the building?”

 

Genji’s mind wandered back to that cold winter night.  It felt a lifetime ago, the blustering wind and the ache of the bitterness of the snow mixed with the warmth of Akande Ogundimu’s penthouse and the joy of being surrounded by admirers.  

 

The pain that came later on…

 

He had almost forgotten about the chaos of the mystery man that in his mind blurred now to be an amalgamation of his foster brother and every ruggedly handsome country western singer he had ever viewed. The fact that he and the other thief had plummeted off the side of the building and into the darkness of the night…

 

He shook his head.  “No,” he stated plainly.  “Bodies were not reported. They someone got away.”

 

“Akande Ogundimu has a history of making things just go away,” Winston frowned.  “I have looked into him-”

 

Genji let out an exasperated whine and leaned back on his forearms and gazed into the bright reflection of the opposite building. “The guy is wealthy, so what? He’s at least trying to make the city better.”

 

Winston opened his mouth, his eyebrows knitting together with a biting retort on the end of his tongue before he slowly closed his mouth.  

 

Genji smirked, feeling slightly victorious with keeping the other quiet.  “He knows where the corruption is in the city. He is actively fighting against it. Actively making a difference and not just arresting hooligans who snatch purses and kittens from trees.”

 

Winston’s hands gripped tighter to the datapad in his hand.  His teeth ground together as his frown set in deeper. Suddenly, Winston looked too much like Hanzo. Too much disapproval in his features. Genji continued on.

 

“And at least when I talk to him he gives me straight answers and not some damn run-around about ‘my destiny’ and ‘my duty’ without telling me anything else.  At least with him I’m not just sitting back and twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the bad to come to me. I’m sick of listening to people give me orders and not telling me why. I am sick of all these secrets. I want to go to it. I want to make a difference. I’m the fucking good guy here!”

 

He hadn’t realized he had been shouting. Or the hot tears that prickled at the corner of his eyes as his breath came hard and heavy in his chest.  His tried to relax the tight grip of his hands, finding them clenched at his sides. His whole body was coiled tight.

 

Winston watched him with wide, yellow eyes, his mouth slightly agape.  He nodded slowly. “I don’t know,” He stated. 

 

“You don’t know?”  Genji felt like a rubber band that had been snapped, still vibrating all over but limp. “You don’t know what?” 

 

Winston shrugged his shoulders weakly.  “Anything. One day I woke up. I knew I had a mission. That medallion was there, waiting for me. It told me to find you. That I needed to get the warrior ready and that bad things were on the horizon.  Everything else is an unknown. My memories were sealed away, Genji. I honestly do not know.”

 

Genji covered his mouth with both hands and rubbed at his cheeks hard. His face felt numb.  “There is no plan.”

 

“Nope,” Winston agreed softly.

 

“Something is on the horizon, but we do not know what it is.”

 

“Yep,” Winston agreed again.

 

“And you are from the moon, and I am the only one able to be the Sentai Warrior.”

 

Winston nodded again.  “Tiny, sentient gorilla sent to find the biggest douche in the city and give him a super suit. Turns the prick into a full on pain in the ass. I’ve been having a blast.”

 

Genji chuckled and looked down at the city below them. Restlessness settled into his bones.  He wanted to run at to the edge of the building and just leap off, let the suit work at flipping him around, bound off the other buildings. Be entirely and totally free of all the expectations that mounted on him over and over again.  

 

Run home and slap Hanzo across his stupid smug face, shave off his eyebrows and just let the past weeks of torment be over…

 

But Hanzo was not like that.  Hanzo would never have just moved on or let things go… Especially now. Genji called him a murderer, rightly so, of course, but still…

 

“Hey Winston,” He cleared his throat and bulldozed on, “ Hanzo’s okay, isn’t he?”

 

Winston shrugged.  “He is barely home during the day.  He cloisters himself in that shop all day and does not come back until well after I have already left to patrol with you. When I come back in the morning, he is already gone.”

 

Genji ran his hands along his face.  Hanzo moved on. He went to work and stayed out of the apartment. It was good enough.

 

________

 

The patrons milled about around below Hanzo, filling the bright space with the chatter of restless noise. It was overwhelmingly bright. Overwhelmingly loud. He stood on the second floor, peering down at the bodies below him as he stood carefully pressed against a large stone pillar.  The open entryway seemed to almost amplify the chatter and cacophony of noise. He pressed his shoulder further into the cool stonework, almost hoping it would swallow him whole. 

 

He watched the sea of vibrant colors dance below. Men and women, dressed in their finest adornments huddled together in clusters as the string quartet sat at the top of the marble staircase, out of the way of the benefactors.  

 

The calm before the storm, he was told. He could feel the tension mounting from the crowd below as servers milled about. The big, double doors remained firmly closed though, a large man standing outside, menacing enough to keep most of the trust-fund babies at bay.

 

“A wonderful turnout,” A woman to his left, hummed appreciatively. She delicately folded her arms in front of her and swirled the dark wine in her glass. Her eyes slowly trailed up Hanzo’s frame without any subtlety. 

 

He grimaced inwardly.  “Indeed,” Politeness was required, he reminded himself.  He did not want to be ejected from this place. He straightened his posture and pulled at the dark grey vest, smoothing the ill-fitting suit into something that could be considered tame.  

 

“A lovely evening as well,” The woman continued, flipping her artificially blonde hair over her shoulder with an elegant hand before sipped her champagne.  “The weather finally opened up, and we have a clear, warm night. People won’t be forced to sit in on that stuffy auction.” There was a sneer in her voice and an upturn to her nose as her gaze locked on Hanzo’s midsection, sizing him up.

 

The suit was cheap, bought at a second-hand store. It fit too snug across Hanzo's shoulders and drooped around his waist, forcing him to wear an overly tight belt. In a mirror though, it was passable enough to make him look less like an impoverished store owner from the wrong side of the city and more like a reputable merchandiser.  He looked nothing like the gentlemen below in velvety black suits, expertly tailored to fit snugly against their every curve. 

 

He could fill out a tuxedo beautifully.  He could be one of them, if only in another lifetime.

 

But he was no gentleman. He was a man that owned a shitty tchotchke shop in the wrong part of town. A business that was doomed to fail him soon if he did not use more direct methods of advertising.

 

“The winter felt especially bitter this year.”  He chose to ignore her commenting and focus on her language. It did not take a trained eye to see that he did not fit in with the better breeding of this crowd.  “Though I do hope that some stay to witness Ms. Montgomery’s estate. It would be a shame if her priceless heirlooms fell into less than reputable hands.” 

 

The name of the former owner of the estate seemed to turn the woman next to him back to the reason for the banquet. She hummed as she took another long drag from her champagne flute.

 

He felt smug at her lack of rebuttal.      

 

It was luck that brought him to this event in the first place.  Ms. Montgomery was one of the last remaining of the old money aristocracy of the city.  Her death surprised no one but still made the evening news, lauding her philanthropy and other pre-packaged stories that made her sound like anything but an angry old shut-in.   Then came the reports that her estate was split, her deadbeat of a nephew came into a substantial amount of her inheritance. 

 

Deadbeat did not begin to cover the nephew.  He stumbled into Hanzo’s shop meer hours after getting his hands on the old woman’s apartment, drunker than anyone had the right to be at nine thirty in the morning and sold the whole lot of it to Hanzo. It was risky, but Hanzo sold his car and cashed in the last of his savings to get ahold of the old woman’s estate only to find out that the family had been contesting the will and the nephew legally had no right to sell the items in the first place.

 

Below, the man standing in front of the large double doors stepped aside. The people below began to herd slowly through the doors, and the chatter slowly began to dwindle as some made their way into the main room.

 

It was doubly lucky then when the estate manager confronted Hanzo and expressed that the family wished to “keep her possessions together.”  What he actually meant was that they wanted the whole collection of her estate complete to auction it all off. Money, it seemed was no object. It was more important to the family that her possessions stayed in the right hands. (Those hands generally being not being sold alongside a ceramic panda from the 70’s inscribed with “I love you in a big way.’)

 

Hanzo hemmed and hawed at the idea if only to drive up their insistence with keeping the pieces together.  They then invited him to the auction house. He gladly took them up on the offer, especially after learning of the five grand entrance fee and plated dinner set up.  

 

This was no regular auction of an old woman’s estate.  This was a grand ball where only the most elite could join.  The prospect intrigued him.

 

In the shuffle of feet heading into the main ballroom, the woman beside him disappeared.  Hanzo was thankful for the sudden quiet. He followed at a distance, pulling out his small yellow legal pad where everything that belonged to him was neatly documented with price points and auction numbers.

 

His plan was simple, stand in the back of the room and take notes of what of his portion of the collection sold, and for how much.  He was sure that in the end, the family would want to shortchange him what he was due.

 

His plan changed instantly when he felt a thin arm loop into his own and dragged him back with more force than a small frame should hold.  Instinct had him round on the figure, palm raised to strike his assailant back. His better nature reminded him that striking a wealthy patron would result in him being ejected and possibly losing everything he put into this.

 

“Whoa there, H, it’s been too long,” The snap of bubblegum resounded by his ear and he turned, meeting chocolate brown eyes framed in electric pink. The girl’s petite face broke out into a wide smile.  “How’d you afford the cover?” 

 

Genji’s friend- the one he liked- Hana Song.  She snaked her arms around his own tighter and gave a little pout.  “Don’t tell me you broke in, naughty boy.”

 

He felt the flush creep high up on his cheekbones. Her voice carried farther into the precession of people, causing several older couples to turn around, scandalized.  “Hana?” He managed, taking in her whole aesthetic.

 

Hana’s hair was pinned up with small ringlet curls cascading down her neck.  He was used to seeing her in her natural state- baggy ripped jeans and a hoodie that obviously was initially owned by Lucio and now commandeered by his girlfriend.  Now though, in a form-fitting metallic pink dress that ended far too soon (he was sure if she bent over he could see panties) and retro blue pumps, she looked straight out of a modern prom movie that reminisces about what people wore in the 1980’s.  Still, she snapped her gum and cocked her hip out to the side, putting her balled up fists on her waist as stepped back and watched Hanzo. 

 

She was obviously sizing him up as well.

 

“How-” He tried to form a coherent thought, but his mind went straight to the crew she usually hung out with. To Genji.  He looked around.

 

“Ji-ji isn’t here,” Her posture slipped into something more comfortable, and she took his hand. “He won’t say much except that he’s pissed at you and that we should be pissed at you too, but I don’t like being told what to do.”

 

He felt his heart plummet at the words, that brief moment when he thought his brother was here. When he could at least get close enough to- “Is he all right?” He asked.

 

Hana nodded.  “Great, actually. He started the semester late, but worked his butt off and got caught up. I think his boyfriend has a lot to do with that. He’s good for Genji.” Hana stepped back into his space, her dark eyes soft as she reached up and tugged at a lock of his hair.  “He won’t say it, but he’s worried about you. He’s just too stubborn to actually realize it. I think it’s a family trait.” Her fist connected with the side of his face in a playful slap. 

 

He couldn’t help but smile at her brashness. “How are you here?” He looked up as another elderly couple watched him with the interest that came when new blood was near.  “This hardly seems like your crowd.”

 

Hana let out a loud groan and turned away.  “Daddy made me come,” She sighed and pulled out her phone, flicking through the lock screen and then playing with the device absentmindedly.  “My father worked for the old bag, and these are his friends. As his dutiful only child, it’s my job to come to these stupid things and make an appearance as his “favorite child.”” She threw up the air quotes as she rolled her eyes. Her pointed stare went right back to Hanzo.  “Why are you here?”

 

He smirked despite himself. “I managed to get ahold of part of Ms. Montgomery’s estate. The family wished for all the pieces to be sold together.”

 

Hana let out a low whistle of appreciation.  “Daddy has his backers here as well, cataloging things. He was her lawyer.  He is super pissed about you.” She punched his arm. “He originally said you were cutting in on his commission until they learned they could sue the pants off the nephew.  You are tiddlywinks now.” She winked at him. 

 

“You act so blase, Miss Song. One would think you did not care for the estate.”

 

She snorted and shook her head. “That is exactly what I want, some old lady’s hand me downs that stink of racism and mothballs.”  Hana leaned forward and tugged at Hanzo’s ponytail. “You look like shit, you know.”

 

Hanzo frowned. “I have just been overworked as of late.” He brushed her hands off.  “It is nothing.”

 

“Overworked?  That’s not how Genji describes it,”  She reached out and snagged a flute of champagne off a waiter and turned to watch him, her eyes upturned.

 

“And what is it that my brother has been saying?”  He kept his face neutral, even as a million questions bubbled up inside him.  Miss Song had seen Genji at least. She knew he was alive and safe, or else she wouldn’t have been teasing him over his appearance.

 

“Oh, you know,” She waved her hand dismissively. “All about your fight and why he moved out. All those details.”

 

Hanzo smirked at that.  “You are fishing for information, Miss Song. I am not foolish enough to fall for your gossiping.”

 

She blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes.  “Okay, fine. Ji-ji said you fought and he was mad at you and could never forgive you, and that is it.  I don’t know what you did, H, but he is pissed.”

 

Hanzo felt like a lead weight was placed in his stomach, weighing him down.  “I see.” 

 

He reached up and absentmindedly tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.  “Miss Song, if you get the chance, please let Genji know-” The auctioneer called to attention. Everyone was to find their seats.  Hanzo felt the welling of panic inside him, and he looked back. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Let him know his things are still where he left them.” 

 

Hanzo moved into the room without looking back. He looked down at the notebook still in his hands. At the notes, he had made of all his items.  The back of the room near the closed double doors. It would give him a good vantage point for every item that came up to bid, without putting him above his station.  He was not one of the elite here. He was the help. He was here for work. To sell items and make money so he could continue to support his brother. So he could continue to own a business and be independent.  

 

So he could pay back Ogundimu in full. 

 

“So boyfriend troubles too, huh?” Hana leaned against the wall next to him and snapped her gum loudly. A woman ahead of them turned and scowled. Hana sneered back, challenging the older woman.

 

Hanzo felt his face heat up.  “I am not having any ‘boyfriend issues,’ Miss Song,” He hissed out.

 

“I see,” Hana nodded and again snapped her gum.  “So he not putting out or is he-” She held up her thumb and forefinger and slowly brought them together until they were an inch apart.  

 

He wanted to leap out of his skin as several other patrons turned to watch, not at all coy in their eavesdropping.  “Miss Song-” 

 

“What? I know practically everybody here,”  His head reeled as she flipped the conversation. He turned and looked over into her smug face, confident she had his attention, she continued.  “Did you and your boyfriend break up? Genji told me all about him and you and how disgustingly cute you were about him. It’s sad.”

 

“What is sad?” He could not help himself, the question rolled out so naturally. He played right into her game.

 

“A man like you, so strong and sexy and built like a brick wall, without a lover to call your own,” She pouted and patted his arm.  “So big and brooding. I bet you would be perfect arm candy on practically anyone’s elbow.”

 

Hanzo looked away. The first item was brought onto the stage for display, an old white and maroon sofa. Apparently antique and designer.  He looked down and made a note as it the price point it was selling for. 

 

Hana let out a huff of indignation at being ignored. “I can get you a sugar daddy,”  Her voice carried along the hall. The auctioneer halted for a split second before resuming. Several people turned and had the decency to look mortified at her declaration.  

 

Hanzo could feel the brightness on his cheeks. He refused to look back, instead of continuing with his notes, even after the girl started playing with his hair.  

 

“I mean, not right now, of course. You are a mess. And the bags under your eyes...but you are a handsome man, H. I could really do good for you. Most of them would be old and dull, but, you know, you are only using them for their money.”

 

“Miss Song!” He snapped out, his voice was still no higher than a whisper.  “I am not going to degrade myself with-”

 

“I am only saying it because you are hot. And they have cash they would be willing to spend. And you can look like you belong here. These geezers could show you a good time, take you on the town and in return-”

 

“I have to sleep with them,“ He hissed. “I have my honor, and I do not leap from bed to bed like my brother chooses to do.”

 

Hana barked out a peal of laughter that once again interrupted the flow of the auction. No one seemed to approach her though on her reprehensible behavior.   Instead, they just fitted her with disapproving stares. 

 

In return, she paid them no mind.  “Sleep with them? H, are you serious? You just show up and be pretty arm candy.”  She moved in front of Hanzo and pouted her lower lip out and tugged on his sleeve.  “You do it because you are bored and they are bored, and they pay good money.”

 

Hanzo ignored the girl, even as she continued to pester and pull at him.  Somewhere inside he knew he should have pushed her away by now, shut down the atrocious acting and childish behavior, but instead, he let it persist as he marked out information on every item placed up for auction, who bought what and the price they eventually sold for.  

 

Hana soon was bored and slunk to his side, crossing her arms over her chest and watched the auction with him. Every several seconds, she let out another long, low sigh. It was enough to draw his eye over to her, but he did not engage.  He had played this game far too often. The second he spoke, she would win.

 

Pieces of the auction came and went, selling for exorbitant amounts of money, more than Hanzo had ever seen. His mouth almost watered as he thought about the pieces that had belonged to him. The amount of money that would soon be his.   

 

“Lot seven-sixty-two,” The auctioneer motioned to his left, where a pile of small trinkets lay. Mismatched items that were piled together.  The woman on the stage slowly moved through the pieces, lifting up each mismatched article and gave a brief explanation. The assortment was utterly random, Hanzo found. One to those lots where they piled together junk that did not seem to hold much value in hopes that someone would want a single item. He was sure that individually, nothing would sell. Not to this crowd.

 

Hanzo’s eyes roamed the seated people who gazed on, apathetically.  Compared to the antique furniture and the heirloom jewelry, the small wooden music box, glass jewels, and china figurines looked entirely common.

 

“Finally,” The auctioneer, clad in pristine white gloves lifted the small music box up off the table and moved to place the item underneath the camera poised to magnify the details to the more delicate pieces.    Several bodies leaned forward in interest as she placed the box down gently. “Dating back to the to the early 1900’s and hand carved with ornamental forget-me-nots. As you can see,” She twisted the box, and it shimmered in the light. “It is embossed with gold leaf. Unfortunately, the key is missing and the box remains locked tight.  There appears to be nothing inside. Any attempts to open the box will damage the beautiful, but delicate mechanisms inside. We will start the bidding for the whole lot at five hundred.”

 

Hanzo raised his hand.

 

The lights cut out.

 

Total darkness enveloped the room, in an instant. Hanzo had to blink at the sudden lack of sense, hoping to get his eyes to adjust with little avail.  The crowd sat dumbfounded into silence for only a moment before the room erupted in a cacophony of voices and chairs shuffling back. A woman cried out. Above it all, the auctioneer raised her soft voice, trying to regain control in the darkness with little avail.

 

Soft fingers intertwined with Hanzo’s, holding on to him tightly as if Hana feared to lose him in the darkness. As if Hanzo would disappear into nothing if she did not tether herself to him.  

 

Hanzo gently squeezed back. He shuffled his feet backward until he hit the baseboard of the wall and pressed his body against it. He tugged gently, coaxing the girl back with him.

 

“Lad-ladies! Ladies and gentlemen,” The auctioneer's voice sputtered, carrying over the din with all the authority of someone slowly losing control.  “If you could please-”

 

A beam of light shot out from on stage, and the crowd quieted instantly. All eyes focused on the man with the flashlight.  A man in a well-fitting black suit and white pressed shirt. His demeanor read security. The beam slowly crossed over the crowd in inspection before the man spoke.  “Patrons to the arts,” The man’s voice was low and demanding. The type that was used to giving orders and being listened to. He gave just enough pause to have the final talkers in the crowd to speak in hushed tones.  “This is a power surge. My security team is already checking the perimeter. In the meantime, stay seated. We will have the lights on momentarily.”

 

Hanzo frowned. In the low light, he looked over to the girl next to him. Her grip tightened on his hand, but her gaze was upwards, not paying attention to the guard.  Not looking at the comfort of the white light, but up towards the ceiling.

 

Hanzo’s gaze followed.

 

He had not paid particular mind to the room itself when he entered.  Rows of chairs had been assembled in front of a makeshift stage curtained in black velvet behind. He presumed it was nearer to the back wall, giving the auction house space to showcase some of the smaller pieces while also providing their crew space to organize.  

 

A ballroom, he realized.  Windows stretched to meet the vaulted ceiling, draped in the same black velvet as to block out any light.  He would learn later that members of the press expressed interest in documenting the auction, but the estate wanted complete privacy for the patrons. It left the room far darker than it would have if the moonlight would have been allowed to shine through.

 

His eyes trailed up the high, vaulted ceiling, taking in the grandeur of the crystalline chandelier, an original fixture to the century-old manor house. He counted seven of them in total, one on either side of the space and extending far back into the darkness.  Light particles from the flashlight seemed to make them twinkle.

 

But...they were not moving.  The flashlight would have reflected the glass and nothing more.

 

Hanzo squeezed Hana’s hand tight.  He held his breath and watched in morbid fascination, unable to speak out as he saw a shadow streak across the ceiling, darker than the rest.

 

“Do you see that, H?”  Hana whispered, entranced with the shadow that disappeared before their very eyes.

 

Hanzo gave one, quick nod.

 

The head of security was moving.  Hanzo’s gaze turned away from the specter above and to the man walking down the middle aisle of people. The beam of the flashlight trained on his back from the woman still on stage.

 

“Do not be alarmed,” The security guard turned and faced the crowd as he reached the door. He spoke with both hands raised as if trying to quell the crowd.  “There is nothing to worry about. We found the source of the outage and lights should be on momentarily.

 

He was so close to Hanzo, he could smell his aftershave. More expensive than most, but not the top of the line.  The man’s eyes flickered across the crowd one final time before turning and exiting the room. He shut both double doors behind him, and Hanzo heard the turn of a key.

 

Locked.

 

The light quivered as all eyes turned back to the woman on stage. She gaped, unsure now of how to entertain a crowd of this magnitude. Her eyes traveled to the items on display. She squared her shoulders and held up the music box, fumbling with the antique and the flashlight.  “Here we have-”

 

A crash.

 

A woman screamed.

 

The auctioneer dropped the flashlight. The beam of light rolled across the stage and fell with a heavy thunk onto the marble floors. Long, unnatural shadows stretched against the floor and left the room in awkward darkness.

 

The woman dropped the box back onto the table and scrambled to the end of the stage, caught up in her long dress. There was a mad dash for the light from the front row, and a clatter as men and women all scrambled as if holding the lone source of light would grant them sovereignty over the rest.

 

Hana squeezed his hand. He turned back.  Her eyes had not left the ceiling, trained on an unmoving shadow above the chandelier.  One that should not exist.

 

Hanzo watched in muted horror as the shadow slowly rose to immense size, distorted in the low light. The figure moved fluidly above them. The crystals shuttered, threatening to fall.

 

A low cackling laugh drew everyone’s attention.  The small hairs on the back of Hanzo’s neck rose as the sound echoed, dominating the whole area. Drowning out all the other babel until nothing but that dark, heady laugh was left.

 

The shadow leaped.

 

He landed with a solid thunk on the main stage. Solid. The creature had mass. 

 

The beam of light shot out, hitting the dark shadow in the middle of his chest and illuminating him to the world.  

 

Tall and broad, the man straightened his cuffs, as if unimpressed with his own feat of prowess. An aura of superiority poured out of the man as he fixed the woman with a brash wink before allowing his full figure to be seen by the crowd. 

 

“Now hold up,”  His hands were raised to them, a mockery of the security chief from before.  The brilliant blues and greys of his suit caught the light and reflected back. His voice carried above the fascinated crowd, too aghast to react to the Mystery Man in front of them.

 

He paced the stage, looking out into the crowd. “What a fine lot you are. Here’s the thing though. You ain’t leavin’, and I ain’t leavin’ until I get what I want, ya hear?”

 

A murmur tore through the crowd. The Mystery Man paid it little attention. He held out in front of him a burlap sack, small enough to stash away.  “Now you all sit pretty there, and I am going to come to you. Put all your pretty valuable into the bag. Sooner it’s done, sooner I’ll be out of your hair and you fine, fancy people can get back to your shindig.”

 

A man rose, set to confront the Mystery Man. “There are a hundred of us and one of you-”  He started.

 

The Mystery Man crowed.  He threw his head back and laughed heartily as if the man’s declaration was the punchline to some joke no one else understood.  His other hand came up, waggling in front of him a small, metal device. “That’s what this is for,” He scoffed. “One false move and I push this button here. Lemme tell you, fine folks, you don’t want to see what’ll happen when I push this little ol’ button here.”

 

The man gasped as the word bomb floated in the air.  The Mystery Man smugly stepped down from the stage. “And it is pressure sensitive to. To my heat signature, so if you get high ideas about tacklin’ me down or fightin’ it away from me-” He let the words hang in the air as he moved to the first person. “Now, this whole thing would go a whole lot faster if you just start….removing your items now. All gold. All Jewels. Everything. Your lives are worth more than sparkles.”

 

Next, to him, Hana was shaking. Hanzo tore his gaze down to her.  “It is all right,” he comforted. “He will not hurt you.”

 

Hana’s free hand was up, twirling the small stud in her ear as she hiccuped.  Her eyes turned to Hanzo. “I-I can’t.” She gasped out. “Lucio save for months. These-”

 

Hanzo clamped a hand over her mouth. A surge of protectiveness coursed through his veins as he looked at the young girl next to him. All that self-assuredness dissolving in a moment.  They were just trinkets, he could explain. Something with more value than her life but…

 

He slowly dropped his hand when he felt her hiccup behind it.  He looked back to the Mystery Man, preoccupied with wangling a necklace from an old lady. He turned back to Hana and held out his hand.  “Give them to me.”

 

Hana moved quickly, extracting the small studs from her ears.  Tiny diamonds on cheap gold rolled in his fingers. He clenched his fist around them and dropped his fist into his pocket as the Mystery Man continued to walk.

 

People complied. He moved swiftly up and down the wide aisles, thanking people as they slowly filled his bag.

 

Hana hiccuped again. She hesitated as she worked on a small tennis bracelet made of pink gems and the pure gold necklace around her neck.  Hanzo waited for her to hold those items out for him as well. He wondered how he could conceal so many pieces without making it look obvious.

 

She never did though.  She held them tight in her hand as she steeled herself, waiting for her turn with schooled features.  The tracks of dried tears on her cheeks were the only evidence she had been crying at all.

 

“Well now,” The breathy voice of the Mystery Man nearly purred as he approached the back.  “Ain’t you a tall drink of water in this barren land.” His smile was dazzling as he stopped right in front of Hanzo.

 

Hanzo clenched his teeth tight, his fists were balled at his sides.  He could not speak. Could not react to this man. Fear twisted in his guts as he met the other man’s honeyed gaze behind that dark mask.

 

The Mystery Man held the bag out to his right and jingled it. Hana obediently placed the jewelry in her hand into the bag and stepped back, away from Hanzo. He never once let his gaze slip. “What’s your name, Sweet Pea?”

 

Hanzo frowned deeper, stepping back and finding the only wall behind him.  The Mystery Man stepped further into his space. “Now then, that ain’t nice.  I’ve been nice, haven’t I?”

 

“Not particularly,” Hanzo forced a sneer.  The scent of clover and sage washed over him. He had to restrain himself from bantering back further. 

 

“Well I think I have been mighty nice,” The Mystery Man continued. He stepped further into Hanzo’s space, framing his hips with his own. His next words came out as a whisper, meant only for his ears. “Especially since I ain’t going to ask you for those pretty earrings you have stashed away for the girl.”  

 

There was a sly smirk on the other man’s full lips as he stepped back. His own gaze set on Hanzo’s schooled features.

 

Hanzo had to bite back a retort. He could not react. Could not rib as he usually would have done with this man. He could not give himself away.  “Thank you,” He growled out instead.

 

“Well now,” The Mystery Man chortled. “I think I deserve a little more than just a thank you for my troubles, don’t you?”

 

The door shuttered violently as something hard slammed into it.  From beyond, Hanzo could hear the muffled, angry sounds of the security detail, suddenly realizing something was amiss.

 

The Mystery Man just smiled at that before turning back to Hanzo. He leaned forward, and Hanzo was once again trapped, unwilling to fight back as the other’s body pressed into him. Hard lips on his own, claiming him, feeling so utterly, achingly familiar. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the unwanted kiss, ever so slightly. 

 

Then it was gone.

 

Hanzo slowly opened his eyes slowly finding only Hana in front of him, her mouth agape in stunned silence. 

 

One final groan and the massive double doors gave.  The security team burst in and stumbled as the doors just seemed to open on their own as if they had never been locked in the first place. They stood, baffled at the sight before them.

 

Hanzo raised his hand slowly to his lips, feeling a weight in his pocket that had not been there before.

 

Overhead, the lights flashed on.

 

The world righted itself. 

 

The Mystery Man was gone.

 

_________

 

Genji landed with a metallic crunch on top of the high brick wall surrounding the manor.  Already he could sense that he was too late. The notification pinged at him nearly an hour ago, merely stating that something was amiss at the Montgomery Manor. He ran at breakneck speeds over the rooftops of buildings, leaping and bounding his way to the ancient manor house to find it already erupting into chaos. 

 

The security detail scrambled outside, flashlights zooming across the yard, searching for something as the house itself stood dark and quiet, like a tomb.  

 

He leaned down and watched, his vision enhanced by the dark visor inside his helmet, allowing him to make out every individual person as they wandered slowly, pacing the yard and speaking slowly through their coms. 

 

“No sign,” A security guard that passed under him reported.  “Lines weren’t cut. The rest of the neighborhood is unaffected.”

 

Someone cut the power to the manor, he realized.  

 

The guard turned away and began to move towards the side of the house, and soon, Genji was left perched alone to watch the massive stone house in front of him.  

 

On the roof, he saw it.  A small movement that barely caught his eye as it shifted along and was gone.  He waited.

 

“Copy,” He heard the breathless reply as a guard ran past him, his hand on his sidearm as he entered the house.  Then, silence. 

 

Genji debated running in, seeing what was happening inside the house before deciding that guards with guns and a masked man were not a good combination.  He was more likely to get shot wandering into this situation than being any help.

 

He saw it again.  On the roof, something moved.  

 

Genji ran at the building, leaping up, grasping that the elaborate masonry.  It was childsplay. He scaled up the building’s facade like an insect and pulled himself up to the flat room carefully.

 

There was no moon tonight. No extra light to aid in his search. He could use that to his advantage though.  He stayed low and crept along, watching for that shadow he knew was up there.

 

A fist connected with the side of his face and sent him toppling forward. He regained his composure and quickly turned right as a second blow connected into his stomach. The third bow would come from above. He knew this pattern. He dipped away as the elbow came crashing down, brushing his shoulder instead of in the middle of his back.

 

Genji twisted away and squared up, his fists raised as he looked right into the face of the Mystery Man.

 

The vigilante stood, his shoulders squared and fists raised. A boxer’s stance.   He jabbed as Genji neared, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “How’d ya find me?” The man snarled.

 

Genji bounded back, his eyes darting around the Mystery Man, waiting for his partner to show.  “Got a tip something was going down here. Can’t say I’m surprised. Just disappointed.”

 

The Mystery Man laughed without mirth, a cold biting laugh that showed teeth.  “Back off,” The Mystery Man held up a small metal cylinder. It fit perfectly into his hand with a big, red button on its end. “If you know what’s good for ya, back off, Bug Boy.”

 

“It’s been a while,” The Sentai Warrior stepped back. He dropped his hands to his sides and let his eyes settle on the device in his hand. Images of a collapsed bridge and Akande’s warning words about terrorism in the city gripped his mind. He would not be responsible for another act of terrorism. Not in his city.  

 

“You distracted me then threw me off a building,” The Mystery Man shot back.  “Can’t say I’m exactly pleased to see you again.” Inside, the lights of the manor flashed on. The Mystery Man cursed.

 

“Just like old times, huh? You, me, the edge of the roof here,” Genji gestured.  “You know I can’t just let you go.”

 

The Mystery Man snorted.  “What are you going to do, arrest me?” 

 

“I could,” The Sentai Warrior stated.  He raised his hands up, showing he had no weapons, nothing on him. “I could get you help.” He whispered.  

 

“You don’t even know who I am,” The Mystery Man sneered.  

 

“I think I do,” Genji swallowed. He could not play his hand yet, he knew but maybe…“I know you attacked the Shambali Monks not too long ago.  Left their leader in a state of disrepair. You nearly killed him, you realize,” 

 

The Mystery Man let out another cutting bite of laughter. “What?”

 

“I know who you are, and you are not a bad man,” Genji whispered.  “You were someone’s big brother once. He looked up to you. Idolized you.”

 

The Mystery Man stopped. “No-”

 

“And it wasn’t fair,” Genji continued.  “It’s not fair that people you loved died, but it’s not an excuse for you to hurt others, Jesse.”

 

The man tensed at the sound of the name.  Genji felt something inside himself ache as he stepped forward.  He tried to see it. Tried to picture the gangly boy, draped head to toe in western attire in this burly man in front of him.  Those mischievous brown eyes. That crooked, upturned smile with that light scar over his lips, barely seen until you got up close.  

 

“Jesse,” He started again. 

 

The man turned and bolted, running in the opposite direction.  He reached to his belt and pulled a small gun.

 

“No!” Genji shouted. He ran at the man, watching as he leaped off the roof of the building and land unharmed on the grass below. The security team shouted loudly as their thief was spotted. Dogs barked.

 

Genji followed, leaping off the side of the building and landing where the Mystery Man had been. The man had a head start, vaulting over the brick wall with practiced ease and into the streets beyond.

 

“Sentai Warrior!” 

 

Genji heard a cry of alarm behind him and did not stop to pause. He ran, leaping over the wall and took off after the Mystery Man.

 

“I didn’t hurt the monk,” The Man called, slightly out of breath as he rounded a corner, into an alley.

 

Genji followed in pursuit.  “Then how did Zenyatta get hurt?” He demanded. He was just a few feet ahead of him, knocking over garbage cans and blocking the path as he went.

 

“Weren’t me!”  He snarled and turned around. “And I ain’t who you think I am!”  He added for good measure. A tack on.

 

“Jesse,” Genji cried out. He leaped over everything left in his path.  “Please stop!”

 

“I don’t rob monks!”  The vigilante snarled.  “I got no beef with Omnics. I ain’t about assassination either, before you start blaming me for Mondatta’s death too. I ain’t about that.” He panted and turned down another alley that dead-ended.  Jesse cursed.

 

Genji slowed as he turned to face him.  The vigilante was trapped. He did not need to scare him more.  Genji ached as he watched Jesse twist and turn, pacing like a wounded animal in his approach.  “Mondatta?”

 

Jesse cursed again, louder this time. “I get it, you are some omnic savior but that weren’t me!” He shouted, his voice quaking.  “I ain’t ever killed, anyone. I just steal.” His hand went to his belt. He held up a burlap sack, heavy with its fill. “I didn’t kill him!”

 

Genji raised his hands slowly.  “I never thought-”

 

“This whole damn city is corrupt,” he threw the bag at Genji. It clattered at his feet and slipped open.  Glorious gems and jewels glitter in the streetlights. “And those people back there are the problem. They’ve done nothing but sit idly by and watch as good men get killed.  If you want someone to blame for Mondatta’s death, you got a whole host of ‘em back there. It’s their apathy that does it. Not men like me.”

 

Slowly, Genji knelt down and scooped the contents of the bag back. He lifted it up and secured it to his belt.  

 

“There is a war goin’ on and I ain’t on the wrong side of it.”

 

Genji took a step forward. “Tell me how to disable that bomb.”

 

Jesse let out a choking laugh.  “Ain’t no bomb!” He held up the cylinder in his hand and pressed the button.  

 

Genji flinched away, covering his head with his arms as he awaited the inevitable explosion that would rocked the streets. The loud deafening roar that did not come.  He looked up slowly. On his chest was a single, red point of light.

 

He looked back to where the Mystery Man had been standing to find….

 

Nothing.

 

Nothing except a small metal cylinder resting on the top of a garbage can, the button still pressed. 

 

He stalked over and picked it slowly up in his hand and twisted it around, looking at the words embossed on the side. 

 

Krazy Kitty Fun Beam.

 

He snickered.

 

___________

 

Chaos erupted as the Sentai Warrior strutted into the ballroom holding the bag of stolen goods above his head.  The hero drank in their praise readily, causing Hanzo to scowl and dip his hands further into his oversized pants pockets.

 

At his side, something still rested, heavy in his pocket as everyone had their stolen pieces returned to them.

 

Hana sighed in relief as she slipped the small studs back into her ears, not yet going over to claim the rest of her property. It seemed the earrings were the only things she valued.

 

He wanted to leave. Wanted to go home now that the rest of the auction was postponed. Nothing could leave the facility until a full police investigation had been settled and all stolen items had been accounted for. 

 

For the wealthy elite around him, waiting that long to get their jewelry back did not seem like an option.

 

“Is that all?” The auctioneer started, her voice carrying over the crowd. “This cannot be all.” 

 

The Sentai Warrior’s head tilted to the side in confusion. He looked around at the men and women around him, all of whom were satisfied with receiving their property back.  “This was all-”

 

“It cannot be all,” She snapped louder.  “The items from the estate! Ms. Montgomery's heirloom jewelry! It was worn by royalty! The value of those pieces-” The woman’s voice was high and frantic.  “Why didn’t you get those?”

 

The Sentai Warrior stepped back and looked around the crowd, searching for someone to defend him from the small woman. His gaze fell on Hanzo and lingered. Almost asking him for help.

 

Hanzo felt the flush rise high on his cheeks under that gaze. He turned away, back to Hana.  “I have given my statement. We can go.” He murmured.

 

Hana nodded and took his arm with both of hers.  He felt something bump inside her dress. Something hard.  He frowned and looked down at her as they passed through the open double doors and into the dark night.  “Your father,” He started.

 

Hana shook her head.  “Walk me home, Hanzo. I just want to go home.”

 

He led her into the chilly night, far away from the harsh lights of the manor before he spoke. “What have you stolen?”

 

Hana looked sheepish.  “I did not steal it. I paid for it,” She explained. “They did not care about some of the junk. Not now that those jewels are missing. I just...I asked.”

 

From the confines of her dress, she pulled out the small, wooden music box. The broken lock twisted unnaturally and filled with the broken end of a key.  “You wanted it,” She stated quietly, holding onto his arm tighter as if he would pull away at the sight. 

 

“You purchased it for me?” He felt warmth creep up his cheeks again as he looked down at her sweet face. 

 

“I did,” She nodded. “But...I am not giving it to you for free.”

 

His eyes stayed on the box in her hand.  He nodded slowly in understanding. He was not the child of a diplomat. He held no sway with this crowd. If it were he that had approached them, they would have laughed and turned him away. But Hana... “How much-”

 

“I don’t want money,” Hana explained, slipping the box away from sight.  “I’ll give it to you after you have paid me back. I just want you to do as I say without question.”

 

The words sunk in. Hanzo felt his lips go numb as he looked down at her still sweet, innocent face.  How much was she aware of? Those keen eyes of hers were always watching. Always looking for more. He found himself nodding.  “Of course.”

 

The weight in his pocket felt so heavy.  So so heavy.

________

 

It was not difficult to find the Mystery Man. 

 

Hanzo left Hana at her dorm before returning to his own house and adorned his tattered old costume. He found the Mystery Man on the rooftops, admiring his handiwork for the night.

 

He turned and smiled as the Demon Thief approached, holding up his prize for the other to admire.  Stunning green jewels cascaded down the golden sides of the necklace in dense clumps. Jewels the side of his fingers glistened in the low light of the city.  “Ain’t it just something,” The Mystery Man whistled.

 

“So the other jewelry was a diversion?”  Hanzo asked, reaching out to feel the weight of it.

 

“Ain’t a bad ploy. People are always more selfishly concerned about their own things of value. Don’t look for what else could go missing.”

 

“So you took others?” Hanzo punched the necklace in his hand and placed it into his pocket. 

 

“What’s I say, I help you, and you help me,” That smile flashed wide.  “I took a cut for myself. Can’t go hungry now, can I?”

 

Hanzo chuckled.  “Your earnings for a job well done. It is too bad the Sentai Warrior appeared. You could have had a much nicer bundle.”

 

The man’s smile faltered.  “Sentai was part of the plan all along,” He grunted.  “A man can’t hock jewels like that without gettin’ caught.”

 

Hanzo hummed in understanding.  “I come from a line of gentlemen thieves,” He stated and chose to ignore the Mystery Man’s comment about assholes who steal for fun.  “We made our family fortune that way. Stealing things became a hobby. Seeing what could be taken and if we could be caught.”

 

“Why are you-”

 

“My great-grandfather was greedy,” He explained.  “When he was a young man, he thought he could steal from dragons. Ancient spirits are not creatures to be trifled with. Instead, he decided he was above them. Smarter and faster.  He wanted to steal the very essence of the dragons for himself.

 

“It was a fool’s errand. The spirits were mischievous though.  They liked his brash ways and bold assertion that he could outwit them.  They bound themselves to his soul, marking him and hissing in his ear that he would never be free of them.

 

He saw it as a blessing. These ancient, mythical beasts, tethered to his soul for eternity. Grandfather never saw it for what it truly was: a curse.

 

They told him the clan would fall once the last son rebuked the mantle of the Demon Thief.”

 

The Mystery Man nodded. “And you are afraid that is you. You are the last son.”

 

Hanzo chuckled. “My father refused the mantle.  He refused to become the Demon, stating that the clan lost its purpose. That they were more interested in hoarding wealth than anything else.  He rejected the clan and was killed for it, as was my mother.”

 

His grey eyes turned and looked up at the Mystery Man next to him.  “You have helped me once already, may I ask for your assistance again.”

 

The man just nodded.

 

Hanzo looked down at his hands. The tattered silk, worn and threadbare frayed under his fingers. His mask, a joke. “I wish to have...my own identity.” 

  
  



	10. Downfall of the Warrior

The papers loomed before him like a mountain. Even though Genji had missed only two classes, it seemed like the professor had given them enough notes to fill the entire semester.  Of course, Victorian British Literature only led to frivolous lectures over the symbolism of the weather and how restrictive life was back then and blah-blah-blah. 

 

It was only pure luck that Hana was in his same section, and that she was the most meticulously organized person he had ever met.  It also helped that the gamer seemed to actually like sitting down and bulldozing through a novel a week and seemed to be the only person in existence who could understand the theory of color and why certain things automatically meant other, unrelated ideas. It was a pain. 

 

“I don’t get it,” Genji let out a groan as he shoved the notebook away. The palms of his hands went right to his eyes and pressed until stars shone behind his lids.  “It’s just a dumb romance book, why is it being heralded as,” He pulled the tattered, dog-eared book from the stack and read off the cover “‘One of the greatest triumphs of storytelling’?” He made a motion of gagging as he threw it back down.

 

“Because it is, Gi Gi,”  Hana reached out and picked the book up, placing it back on the pile where it belonged.  “And if you could take a night to read one of the books assigned to you instead of just getting the SparkNotes from me, you would understand it too.”

 

“Yeah yeah,” He grumbled and went back to scripting his abridged version of her notes, reasonably sure that she created fake notes to give to him over this book.  He had read the back and had the general gist of the book; it was a standard, dull period romance-Girl gets a job as a maid in a big brooding mansion. The big brooding manor happens to be owned by a big brooding man who spends most of the novel being a jerk to her. They fall in love at the end after he is disabled. It all sounded fairly mundane, like a daytime soap opera. 

 

That is, except the middle bit of her notes about a ghost in the attic.

 

“I’m worried about Hanzo,” Hana stated loudly enough that it was purposeful to get his attention. 

 

It worked. Genji’s pen stopped moving. Hana took a deep breath and barreled forward.  “He’s a mess. I saw him the other day, and he’s let himself go. His hair is disgustingly long and flat. He has these giant bags under his eyes. He was wearing clothes that didn’t fit right-”

 

“Hanzo always looks like that. He only makes it look like he's got his shit together,” Genji grumbled and went back to his notes, pressing the tip of the pen a little harder against the paper as he gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. 

 

“He broke up with his boyfriend,” Hana stated.  “He’s all alone in that shop and...I don’t think he does anything else. I think it is a cycle of work then sleep. And I don’t think he is doing much sleeping.

 

“Again,” Genji’s voice was sharp as he continued to write, not looking up at Hana’s face.  “That is normal for him. He’s an asshole that puts duty before family.”

 

Silence fell between them, only broken by the hard scratching of the pen, biting hard into the white paper. 

 

“I am taking him out,”  Hana’s voice came out small. Genji looked up. In her hands sat the copy of Jane Eyre, she opened it and stared down at one of the tabbed pages. She was not reading though.  “I made a deal with him. He agreed to hang out with me. I don’t want you to think I am trying anything but…”

 

“Your book is stupid,” Genji slammed the notebook in front of him closed and tossed it across the short end table where he was seated.  “It’s a story I have heard a thousand times and with characters that are boring and why would the house be a character? I mean, it doesn’t talk. Or come to life or anything. Houses are settings, Hana.”

 

Hana let a little smile form as she slipped down to sit next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Thankfully, she took the hint and moved on, “Because the house is more than just a place.  It grows and evolves with Jane.” She pulled out another notebook and set it in front of him. “And it is trope-y as hell, but that’s because it did it first. Well, maybe not first, I don’t know, but before everyone was doing it. Plus, you have to write a critical analysis of the themes of the novel for class next week, so you better get to reading. Sometimes you have to alter your perspective of things to understand what other people want out of you. The professor wants an essay over the themes, and she said the house was a character. You don't have to like it. You have to do it.” She held her copy of the novel out, wiggling it like a worm on a hook for Genji. “I even marked the important parts and put notes into the margins.”

 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to write in books, Hana. That is vandalism,” He smirked. “Thanks,” He leaned over and kissed her forehead as she snuggled into his side.  

 

He opened the book and began to flip through the pages. As promised, a neatly scripted, hot pink ink scaled along the white spaces of the book, detailing all the relevant passages. Several places also housed tiny note cards, jammed tightly into the edge of the book, giving more space to write notes. In the back was a folded up slip of white paper, filled from top to bottom on both sides in small, tight print. He pulled it out and began to read.

 

“Her claw-like fingers danced against her alabaster skin, making the woman shiver in anticipation as it dipped lower...lower...against her soft pink petals. Jane yearned for them to probe deeper, reach into her core and let her see-”

 

Genji felt his face heat up as he read on as Jane and Bertha (whoever that was) descended into a lavish display, Mr. Rochester be damned! “You didn’t tell me there were lesbians in this!” Genji blurted, flipping the page over to find more. “And when did Jane wear a little pink uniform? You should have lead with this, Hana!”

 

Hana jolted back as if burned. Her face was cherry red as she scrambled over his lap to snatch the paper away. “That’s not!”

 

Genji let out a cackle and leaned back, just out of the shorter woman’s reach as he began to read aloud. “‘This is so wrong,’ The Pink Mercy breathed, her thighs trembling with anticipation as she felt the cold hand travel across her exposed breast. Her legs widened, accepting those long fingers that reached further into her core.”

 

“Stop, Genji!” Hana snatched at the paper, crumpling it up and keeping it held tight in her clenched fist, her face even redder than before.

 

“My, my!” Genji teased as Hana moved back, clutching the infamous paper to her chest like an angry rabbit. “I had no idea you were capable of writing such...lusty things.”

 

“I didn’t write it,” Hana grumbled and set the paper out on the table once she was certain Genji wouldn’t make another wild grab for it and smoothed it out as best as she could.  “I am reading it for a friend. I wasn’t supposed to show anyone either, so if you go around talking about this, I will break your nose.” The determination in her eyes proved that this was not a lie.  She looked angry enough to scratch out his eyeballs. “We wrote it in class yesterday when you weren’t there. We couldn’t have phones or computers out while the professor was going over the notes, so we write little stories to pass the time, not like you would know since you are never there.”

 

“So,” He broached, earning another dagger-like stare from Hana. It was obvious why his brother favored him among his other friends. She looked like an assassin ready to kill.  “You and Lena write lesbian superhero stories. Good for you.” He tried not to sound condescending. 

 

Hana snorted. “No, Lena writes lesbian superhero stories, because she wants to read lesbian superhero stories. I...write about the actual superheroes we have in the town.”

 

Genji felt his face heat up at her words. “You-”

 

“Lots of people are getting into it, you know? The Sentai Warrior and that Mystery Man that evades him. Or the Mystery Man and that Demon Thief getting into sexy escapades. Or even The Demon Thief with his arch nemesis the-”

 

“Whoa!” Genji threw up his hands to cut her off before she could finish the sentence. His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat.  You realize those are real people, right? And that two of them are criminals, right? Like, honest-to-god criminals that deserve to go to jail for what they are doing, right?”

 

Hana let out a snort of laughter.  “Well, that’s what makes it hot. Now, get back to Jane Eyre.”

 

________

 

“So you did what?” 

 

Jesse groaned at the words and pulled the mask off of his face and let it fall onto the worktable in front of him.  He ran a gloved hand over his face and let out a loud moan. “I gave him the necklace.”

 

From his left, the woman let out a cackle as she methodically set her tools out on the table.  “Oh man, you have it so much worse that Fareeha said.”

 

Jesse glowered at his cousin, stripping down out of his suit. “Brigitte, I am in no mood for your-”

 

“So we are on full names now, ja?”  The woman next to him snickered and began to pull the jacket off his shoulders with gusto, fingers probing at the holes in the fabric and mashing them against the bruises at his side. “All right Jesse ‘Mystery Man’ McCree, tell me why you thought it was a good idea to take a necklace worth about as much money as say, a cruise ship, and slip it into your ex’s pocket with a wink.”

 

“I miss him,” Jesse winced as Brigitte’s calculating fingers probed against another gash in his armor, and yet another against his skin.

 

“Bullshit,” The mechanic stated. She laid the flexible armor onto the workbench and began to pull out the silk lining, making low tsking noises as she worked, sounding very much like her mother did every time Jesse wheeled her and Fareeha back in from the racetrack.

 

“Fine then,” Jesse huffed and fell into a metal chair that scraped along the concrete floor of Lindholm Garage and Body Repair. He worked at getting off the shiny patent leather shoes, dropping them one at a time onto the floor. “If you wanna be a smartass expert in me, why did I do it?”

 

“You wanted to show off,” The woman waggled her screwdriver at him.  “You wanted that boy of yours to be impressed with the Mystery Man, and you wanted to win him back by being cooler than just plain old Jesse McCree, who barely has a high school diploma. You wanted to impress him.”

 

Jesse’s scowl deepened.  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into the chair and said nothing.

 

Brigitte smirked over at him. “Told you so,” She turned back to the black jacket and made another disapproving noise.  “The alloy is too weak. It is good at resisting a lot of damage, but that Sentai Warrior is one tough cookie. The problem is that it is so thin. You wanted it to be inside the suit coat, but it loses its integrity. I can get this fixed for you in like, two days. That is, as long as Dad isn’t watching.”

 

“Thank’s Gitte,” He said, more than thankful at the change of subject than the repairs to his thin armor.  “I got another favor to ask too.”

 

“Vest,” She snapped her fingers, her gaze locked on the small tears in the fabric's thin armor.

 

Without question, Jesse undid the buttons on the vest and handed it over, along with the capelet. 

 

“I think I am going to line these as well, give you two layers of armoring. It will weigh a bit more, but you should be able to adjust,” Brigitta explained.  “It won’t keep it from tearing. It’s just too thin, but it will give you more protection against your skin and organs. Leave you bruised, but alive.”

 

Jesse leaned back and ran a hand through his hair as he listened to Brigitte as she explained once again the technology of the armor.  Her father helped develop it back in the day, he knew. Stronger and more lightweight than traditional body armor. It also had a modest amount of flex to it as well.

 

It was the same material Torbjörn had used when he developed the costumes for Daredevil and the Mariachi Bandit. He created elaborate, strong costumes that left enough mobility to look natural without raising any questions about how ordinary men could do such extraordinary things. 

 

Only, it did slow them down.  The armor had a limited range that slowed down both Jack and Gabe's reflexes. It led to them being trapped under the rubble of a two-story building, crushing them to death slowly while dust-choked their lungs.

 

“Dad was asking questions again,” Brigitte stated, laying out the capelet out flat and running her hands over the silk lining.  “Why I was working late. Why you were coming around so often. If I had anything to do with that Sentai Warrior’s costume.” She smirked. “I think he is onto us.”

 

Jesse chuckled and leaned forward, shifting the ache in his bones to another uncomfortable position. “Well, he ain’t wrong. This your way of tellin’ me your out?”

 

She slowly shook her head.  “You came to me and asked me to help find out what happened to Uncle Jack and Uncle Gabe. I know what my father did for them back in the day and how he blames his craftsmanship for why they died.  I believe you when you say there is more to the story. Just know we someday soon we will be caught. And I doubt Dad will like to learn I am making armor for the bad guys.”

 

“I ain’t bad,” Jesse scoffed, only to have Brigitte turn and raise an eyebrow at him. “I am gathering up important information. I only take what I need.”

 

“And the funds to pay me for my services?”

 

“Speaking of services, remember that favor you owe me? I gotta cash it in.”

 

________

 

It was hard to admit that Hana had been right.  Not about how hot it would be to watch the Sentai Warrior make out with his rivals, like she kept insisting, but right about Hanzo.  Genji felt an aching twist in his gut every moment he thought about his brother sitting alone in the apartment.

 

Hanzo was not one to take to abrupt change well.  He had to be in control of every situation, and suddenly, Genji sent everything spiraling out of control. He had seen Hanzo at the party, standing in the illuminated doorway as Genji took off after the Mystery Man, who may or may not be his foster brother. Hana had been with him, Genji saw her too. 

 

But he looked tired.

 

The walk to the apartment from the monastery felt longer than it had every other time. Genji dragged himself down the familiar roads, feeling like it had been years since the last time he traveled that way, even though it was more like weeks. He stopped at a park, remembering how he had been there just yesterday as the Sentai Warrior. Saving a cat from a tree or a purse from a snatcher as per Winston’s orders.  He stopped to watch the last glint of the sun pass along the buildings and drive them further into inky blackness as the streetlights cast long shadows of the cars and set the whole world into a soft navy and warm grey.

 

Genji shuffled his feet as he stood outside the dark exterior of the antique shop and dug his hands even further into his pockets. 

 

Next door, the noodle shop front window was illuminated.  Customers still wandered in and out, bringing with them the spicy scent of some curry dish that made his mouth water and tempted him that, yes, he should confront Hanzo with a full stomach. He could hear music wafting down the street from some open window-a Spanish jazz piece that called out to him to find the window and stand under it, just listening for hours to cool his raging nerves, just a little longer, so he did not have to worry about the argument that was to come.

 

Everything in the neighborhood felt more tempting than the dark door that led up the stairs and to Hanzo.

 

It would have been easy to turn around then, shove his hands deep into his pockets and return to Zenyatta and their peaceful nightly talks about anything but the feelings that burned deep inside Genji. Emotions that he would never vocalize to the monk out for fear of losing the one person he now cared for more than anything. But he made the mistake of announcing he would not be back that night. He told Zenyatta precisely what he had planned. A contingency plan to make sure he did not bail out at the last minute. 

 

Like he was doing now.

 

He took one deep breath to hold as he unlocked the front door. Another to transcend up the staircase and stand in front of the faded, white door where the paint chipped and the numbers hung crooked.  A third to turn the key in the lock and turn the handle.

 

Pushing open the door felt like he was like swimming upstream in a frozen river. It rushed over him in an instant, almost pushing him back down the stairs and out the door. It soaked into his skin and drenched him to the bone. His senses were overwhelmed until it felt like his heart would collapse from the pressure. He pushed against the current and stepped through the front entrance towards the lone light that illuminated deep inside the apartment.

 

Hanzo sat reclined on the couch, a book forgotten in his hands as he watched Genji with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape.  He sat up straighter but refused to blink. Instead, he let the book tumble to the floor, forgotten. His tired eyes dark and set deeply inside his skull, like he hadn't slept in months. His hair was loose, swept back over his shoulder and longer than Genji had ever seen it before. Lank and dull. Already peppered with grays that Genji knew he put there.

 

Hana was right. He was a mess.

 

The apartment was a different matter. Every item sat in a designated spot, fastidiously turned until it fit the space correctly. There was not a stray dish on the counter or glass in the sink. Not a speck of dust on any of the shelves, the dingy apartment reeked of lemon scented cleaners that bit at Genji's eyes and nose. The linoleum of the kitchen sparkled under the dim light unnaturally.  Not a stray speck of dirt in the corners. Perfection.

 

“You look like shit,” He blinked away the wetness of his eyes that came from the overwhelming scent of cleanliness.

 

To his surprise, Hanzo chuckled.

 

The waters within him stilled.  He was locked into the spot until he felt the rush of the tide receding against his back and pushed him forward until he was seated on the farther side of the couch.  Not touching, he did not want to reach out and touch the man across from him and feel how easily shattered he could be. 

 

Genji’s gaze moved over his brother, still a solid mass of muscle. He expected Hanzo to look older. He hoped to see more wrinkles around his tired eyes and more white in his hair.  It felt like an eternity since he had stormed out of Hanzo's apartment and swore never to come back. “What happened?” He asked.

 

Hanzo’s gaze turned to the floor.  He reached down and picked up the book without speaking.

 

Genji swallowed down the pit that grew inside the back of his throat. Zenyatta instructed him to stay calm when he said he was coming here.  He told Genji to be patient and listen. To not run away when the urge to flee hit him. Hanzo would not be the one to make the first move. As it was in training, he would wait to counter-attack and let Genji be the one that was venerable. He tried again.  “Where is your handyman?”

 

A short roll of Hanzo’s shoulders that could have been a shrug was his answer. Hanzo's arms shifted around his middle more as he sat up straighter and pushed himself into the opposite corner of the sofa. Finally, he spoke, “It did not work out.”

 

They sat in silence. Genji felt the raging tempest inside him abate into a quiet burn inside his chest that dropped lower into his stomach as the minutes ticked by without a word. He watched Hanzo's tired eyes turn downward as he waited for Genji to reply.  It settled inside until nothing was left but regret. “You’re stupid; you know that?”

 

Hanzo’s eyes flash up to meet Genji’s with dark fire, ready for the fight. Not completely passive. Familiar anger burned inside his brother. The anger he knew well enough meant long arguments and more regretful words.

 

Instead, Genji reached forward and took his brother’s hand in his own, squeezing it gently before he continued. “You had a guy willing to come and fix everything in the apartment for just a look at your tits, and you let him get away? That’s stupid Hanzo. I would have milked that for as long as the guy was willing to pay.”

 

To his relief, Hanzo chuckled. He squeezed his hand back tightly and not willing to let go. Not yet.  “It just wasn’t right,” He stated.

 

Genji tugged, easily pulling Hanzo to him and into his arms. To his relief, Hanzo followed willingly, wrapping his arms around Genji's middle.  He could not remember the last time he held his brother close. Or the last time they spoke like equals. Never had he seen Hanzo for who he was: a young man who did not know all the answers and just as clueless as Genji. Scared and alone, wondering what will happen next.  

 

Genji held him close and listened as Hanzo scoffed at the affection, but did not pull away or fight it.  Genji was lucky in that regard. Affection came easily to him. He welcomed a warm touch from anyone willing to give it. Hana, Lucio, and Tracer would let him lay close to them while watching a movie.  Zenyatta carefully threaded his long fingers though Genji's hair until he was able to fall asleep. Jack and Gabe, cradling him close at night when the nightmares returned.

 

Genji wondered when the last time that happened for Hanzo. Who was there to coddled and cared for him late at night?

 

“You need sleep, Anija,”  He sat Hanzo back and stroked the long hair out of his face, just as tenderly as their mother had years before. He stood and pulled Hanzo to his feet. The older man hesitated until Genji swore he was not going to leave. He then followed. His hand grasped tight around Genji’s and refused to let go.

 

It was easy to maneuver Hanzo into his room, the man walked in almost a dreamlike state, stumbling slightly on his own feet. He had been maintaining the shop on his own, Genji reminded himself.  He had taken on the duty of caring for the store every day, all the while he sought out new merchandise. He came home and sat on that ugly couch and read books or watched the news all night until he was forced to sleep, then he repeated the process. No friends. No lovers. Overworked and overtired, Hanzo needed a nights rest.

 

Genji flicked on the lights and blinked down at the mostly deflated air mattress on Hanzo’s floor. “Brother?” He turned and looked at Hanzo who shrugged and turned, heading down the hall to where Genji’s room sat closed off.

 

“I could not afford to buy myself any furniture yet,” Hanzo stated, pushing in the door and leading Genji into his room.  He did not bother turning on the lights. He pulled Genji towards to the small bed in the center of the room. 

 

Genji felt his insides ache as Hanzo sank down onto the mattress of the bed. He tugged at Genji until the other man followed, laying beside him. “What do you mean you could not afford anything?”  He asked, his voice a quiet murmur as he searched his brother’s face for answers, brushing away the loose strands of hair. “I am not a child, Hanzo. I don’t expect for you to pay my way.”

 

Talk, Genji implored.  He could not vocalize it. He could not cry out for his brother for once in his life, to talk to him. Tell him what was happening and allow Genji to help.  “I am not a child,” he repeated as if that would be enough.

 

“I,” Hanzo started and looked down to Genji’s hand, still gripped tightly in his own.  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “The only priority I had for years was to get you home.  I was willing to sacrifice everything I had to make sure you were with me again. I was willing to pay the price, no matter what it cost.”

 

Genji swallowed, holding tight to Hanzo’s hand as his brother spoke softly. For once, he did not want to comment, to criticize or speak out about the foolishness of his older brother. He listened.

 

“I have debtors, Genji. And all of my loans are coming due,” Hanzo swallowed again.  “Lawyer bills, proof of job, proof of housing. Food. Rent. Living. I did not care about the cost.  I could not care about how much money I was sending out each month. All that mattered was getting you back,” Hanzo’s voice cracked with the effort to stay even. “I just wanted you home.” 

 

Genji shifted, pulling Hanzo into his arms and resting his chin on the top of his brother’s head.  He listened as the ragged breath evened out below him. Slowly, Hanzo’s arms snaked around his middle and twisted into his shirt, pulling Genji closer still.

 

“Genji, are we,” His voice trembled as his hands twisted tighter in the fabric of his shirt, pulling Genji closer into his arms as if Genji would melt away and disappear again.  “Are we...okay?”

 

“No,” Genji stated truthfully.  “We are not okay. Not yet.”

 

But it was a start.

 

_______

 

Dinner was always a noisy affair, especially during any season of any sporting event.  Rein would have the television on low in an adjoining room, and quietly, he would lean to the side and squint, determined to see the score, much to Ana’s chagrin.

 

Tonight was no different, expect the television was a little louder tonight, as Fareeha mimicked her stepfather’s movement to lean over to glance at the screen while absentmindedly bringing her fork to her mouth, not paying attention to if she had potatoes or lamb in the scoop.

 

There was money riding on the game, Jesse decided as he watched his sister practically miss her face as her eyes stayed transfixed on the television in the other room. If the scowl on Ana’s face was any indication, the matriarch was well aware as to what was happening under her roof, and she did not approve.

 

Either way, it pulled attention away from him and the fact he was barely paying attention to the meal presented to him. His eyes were downcast to the phone that rested against his thigh. He would swipe open the screen every few minutes to check if there were any new messages.  

 

Brigitte said she would contact him tonight. Tell him if she agreed to his terms. Even with calling in her debt, she was reluctant to say yes.  Making armor for him to battle the forces that murdered his family (and steal enough jewels to finance a fleet of cruise ships) was well and good. Making armor for a stranger who most definitely was a criminal and was not working to the greater good of the city was something entirely different. 

 

Her final words on the matter were to call him a horndog and kindly request he find a fuck partner immediately before sticking his dick in crazy. She didn’t seem to care that calling in her debt meant she could not ask questions. 

 

And it wasn’t like he wanted to fuck the thief. It was about professional courtesy. The thief helped him; now he was returning the favor. All debts cleared up.

 

“Habibi?”  He jolted upright, realizing he was sulking and looking down at his crotch again. He looked up to find Ana staring at him, her lips downturned in worry.  “Is everything all right, Dearest?”

 

He nodded and shoved the phone back into his pocket. “Just fine, Ma’am.” He winced, knowing that was a dead giveaway something was up.  Ana did not comment though. Her gaze stayed on him as she took another small bite. 

 

“He’s still pining over his ex,” Fareeha let out a dramatic sigh and waved her fork in the air.  “Brigette told me so.”

 

His scowl could have melted the paint off the side of the house as both Reinhardt and Ana looked between them. 

 

“Oh, Habibi, I had no idea,” Ana stated, her motherly tone making it all the worse. He wanted to sink into the chair and have the floor swallow him up.  He jabbed at a piece of lamb on his plate hard.

 

For once, it was Reinhardt who changed the subject “Do not listen to her,” Reinhardt scoffed. “She is just playing the fact as a distraction since her team is losing.”

 

“And why would that matter?”  Ana’s attention snapped to her husband like a bloodhound. She stabbed at a potato on her plate.

 

Jesse raised his eyes and looked at the man to his right, who was now wide-eyed and holding his hands up in defense. “Meine Liebe,” He started.  A one-eyed scowl pinned him to the spot. It spoke more words than the woman needed to. Proof that her child and husband were gambling with one another. Proof that they had conspired beyond her wishes. “It was only a game. Nothing serious,” Reinhardt continued.

 

“If that is the case, Fareeha. Dishes.” It was an order. She rose to her full height and looked as big as the Chrysler Building. She turned and headed off, not witnessing the incredulous look Fareeha gave to her stepfather as she followed. She would be getting her ass chewed out in private, it seemed.

 

Jesse’s gaze stayed on the man next to him as Reinhardt folded his hands on the table.  “She won’t stay mad long,” He smiled softly and looked over to Jesse. “She was already aware of what we were doing, not it is just the principle of the matter.”

 

“You didn’t have to-” Jesse started.

 

“No, but I remember how it was, losing your first love. It is a pain you do not want to share, that you bury deep into your heart and hope it makes you cold and unforgiving. You hope that next time you find love, you will be smarter and harder. I know you will not listen to advise, no one does when they feel this kind of pain, but know that love will find you again. And next time, it will be better.”

 

“You speak from experience,” Jesse smirked and stacked the plates up into a neat pile for his sister to clear away. 

 

“I do,” Rein gazed wistfully into the kitchen where Ana stood shoulder to shoulder with her daughter. “My story is not yours, but you will find that love can surprise you. Maybe you met your love at the wrong moment, my boy. It took me over twenty years to find mine again. And the second time around was so much sweeter.”

 

_______

 

The brothers spoke well into the night, buried under a mound of blankets and curled next to each other. It was just like they were boys again, whispering to one another when they should have been asleep.  The quietness of the room made it feel like any moment Oto-san's massive silhouette would frame the doorway. He would demand to know why his two sons were still up at this late hour. He would scold his boys for disobeying orders about their bedtime and carry the other back to his room with a slight smile on his lips. A distant memory Genji could barely hold onto anymore.

 

“Hanzo,” Genji whispered in the darkness.

 

“Hm?” The elder hummed in response, slowly opening his eyes again to meet Genji.

 

“How did they die?” He asked.

 

Hanzo stiffened.  Genji felt a tightness form in his throat. He instantly regretted broaching the taboo subject of their parents instead of letting it stay as a dormant memory. Genji’s accusation from before still a fresh wound.  Ogundimu’s proclamation that Hanzo was to blame for their murder burned in the back of his skull, demanding an answer.

 

“I was only five or six,” Hanzo started, his words came out slow and steady, as if he were trying to remember every detail. “You were three. They died in a car accident.”

 

“I don’t remember them,” Genji stated quietly.  “I try to think of Oto-san’s face or how Oka-san would smile and...all I have are still photographs of them. You remember them. Please Hanzo,” He implored.

 

“We had just moved from Japan,” Hanzo started.  “Oto-san said that if we were good all week and helped around the house and did not cause any problems for our mother, that weekend, we would travel into the city to see the dinosaurs.

 

“You were so excited,”  Hanzo allowed a wistful smile pass over his lips as he looked down at Genji’s folded hands.  “For days it was all you could talk about were the dinosaurs. All the different types. What colors they were. How big they were. You were especially good that week and even helped Oka-san with the dishes after dinner.

 

“The weekend came, and you came down with a fever. You were sick, but when Oto-san suggested postponing the trip, you began to cry. Our mother was the one who convinced him to take us still. It was only a little cold. You were so excited, how could they disappoint you? 

 

“But it wasn’t just a cold. We started to wander around. You were sweating and pale.  You clung to this little green toy dinosaur with a long neck as we walked until it was too hard. Oka-san had to carry you. Still, you refused to leave. You had to see those dinosaurs. You cried and wept as we walked, just wanting to see those damn dinosaurs.

 

“They were the final exhibit of the museum though.  And I,” Hanzo swallowed. “I was so angry with you.”

 

“Why?” Genji spoke finally.

 

“I wanted to see the mummies. Oto-san told me about them, about how they came all the way from Egypt and had been around for thousands of years. I wanted to see them, but you were getting greener and greener. And Oto-san then said we would have to skip them so you could look at the dinosaurs before you got sick.  He promised me that we would come back. That it would just be him and I and he would show me those mummies. So he took you to the dinosaurs.

 

“They were magnificent, Genji.  We were small next to them. They loomed above us, massive and terrifyingly real.  I could count every one of their ribs. For the first time in my life, I saw these real monsters that roamed the earth. They were like dragons, Genji. They were so big and impressive. I wanted nothing more but to touch them. But you,”  Hanzo chuckled and took his hand. “You held our mother’s hand and looked up at those magnificent beasts with your glazed eyes and,” Hanzo trailed off and shook his head. “And you said, ‘They are just bones,’ before vomiting all over the floor.

 

Genji smiled, “I don’t remember any of that,” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against Hanzo’s as he saw the anguish pass over his brother’s features. 

 

“You wouldn’t remember,” Hanzo whispered.  “You were so sick after that. Oto-san carried you back to the car while Oka-san dragged me along.  I was told to sit up front because our mother insisted she stay with you in the back. Your car seat was on the passenger side, and she could not reach you if you needed anything. She needed to be near you.

 

“I was so excited to sit next to him,” Hanzo stated.  “I felt so grown up next to our father. I don’t….I cannot remember anything more than driving away from the museum. They were arguing; I remember their raised voices but...” He let out a shaking breath.

 

“I woke up in the hospital several days later. The doctors told me that our parents did not survive. But you were awake. And playing with that little green dinosaur. It was like there was nothing wrong. Uncle came for us days later. We buried our parents.

 

Instinctively, Genji wrapped his arms around Hanzo, pulling his brother tight into his embrace and holding the other in the silence of the apartment. His brother released a shaking breath and kept him closer still.  “Stay, Genji.”

 

He nodded.  "I will be here all night, Anija.  I won't go."

 

_______

 

Genji groaned as he rolled over and found the other side of the bed empty.  He groped under his pillow for his phone as he pushed himself up and found himself alone in the room, the door lay open, allowing the slightest beam of morning light to pour through the crack.

 

His mouth felt like cotton as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked down at the screen of his phone.

 

7:43.

 

He rolled off the bed and onto his clumsy feet. The apartment was silent, but that meant very little. Chances were good Genji would push open the door and find his brother curled up on the sofa, some dry doorstop of a book in his lap as he frowned up at his brother, almost accusing him of disturbing his peace.

 

In his hand, the phone flashed an angry red, silently demanding a charge. He looked around the room for an outlet, only to realize his charger was still back at the monastery. He shuffled out while rubbing his eyes. “Hanzo?” He called, his voice cracking.

 

There was no answer.

 

Genji groaned and rubbed the palms hard against his eyes as he shuffled into his brother’s room.  Hanzo was meticulously organized, which meant there would be a charger next to his deflated mattress which meant his phone could charge while he showered and dressed. 

 

The charger was right where he assumed it would be, in the most logical outlet in the room. A quick message was sent, first to Zenyatta letting the monk know that Genji was safe and with his brother, then one to Winston, letting him know he would be late to training. He dropped the phone onto the floor and shuffled back into the bathroom, not wanting to read the replies that would soon follow.  

 

He stripped down out of his clothes and winced as the water went from icy to menacingly in a matter of moments. The scalding hot water felt wonderful against his skin, draining away the last tendrils of sleep and soothing his aching muscles. He closed his eyes and pondered the next steps. 

 

Leaving felt like the logical solution; dress quickly and text Hanzo that he was gone.  There was a multitude of excuses that he could pass off without making his brother feel slighted--He had classes that afternoon, Zenyatta was expecting him back at the monastery, Hana had a study group. Any excuse to leave.

 

He groaned and leaned his head against the tiles. Hanzo wasn't some one-night stand that he needed to ditch. Hanzo was his bother, who also had a full schedule.  Hanzo was probably already at work, and it would be best to greet him in the shop before leaving. He was looking to repair damages here, not widen the gap between them.

 

Running was just so easy. 

 

Genji groaned and ran both hands over his face as he pushed those intrusive thoughts away. He needed to get out, dress, speak to Hanzo, then leave. 

 

He didn’t have any clothes here.  

 

The realization hit him like the icy water that sputtered out of the shower head. Winston was the perfect friend, sneaking out one bag of his possessions at a time and delivering them to Genji at Zenyatta's until he had amassed all his belongings in one small room of the abbey. 

 

To Hanzo, it must have looked as if Genji was returning while he was away and stealing away his things like a thief in the night. He groaned again, feeling the weight of his actions press against his tense shoulders.

 

Now he was faced with stepping out of the shower and back into the previous night’s clothes, as if he had been on a drunken bender and not cuddling his brother like he was a small child again.  

 

The water ran cold sooner than he was ready, leaving him standing and shivering in the chilled stream.  Wearing the clothes he slept in somehow felt more disgusting. He could see them piled in the corner of the bathroom and could feel the rankness pouring out of them.

 

He stepped out of the shower and folded the crisp, white towel around his midsection as he stepped back into the apartment, “Hanzo?” He called out.  Again, there was no answer. 

 

Maybe Winston had left him something. A shirt and underpants were all he needed.  Jeans could easily be worn for weeks without proper washing if they still smelt clean.  He padded into his dark room and over to the closet, finding the space barren. 

 

Lucky for him, several pairs of boxers and an undershirt still lay inside the dresser untouched.  He dressed and stepped back into the main room, calling out for his brother once again before heading back into the bathroom to grab his pants and top. It would due until he made it home.

 

His feet squelched against the bathmat. He frowned, looking down at the puddle of water that leaked out of the side of the tub and over the floor, soaking everything that lay on the floor.

“Aw, shit,” He cursed out as he lifted up his clothes, confirming that they were dripping wet. He dropped his clothes back to the floor and used his foot to push around the water until they had soaked up the remaining dampness.

 

“Fucking shitty apartment,” He cursed again, throwing the now inhospitable clothes into the hamper stalked into Hanzo’s room.

 

He would pay for it later, he was sure, but at least Hanzo was the same build as him. Hanzo’s sense of style was abysmal, but not so much that he wouldn't borrow select items.  On the floor by the mattress, his phone blinked, obviously a reply from either Winston or Zenyatta. He snatched it up, thankful for the quick charge and headed over to Hanzo’s closet.

 

His closet held more space than Genji's, though it was impossible to tell with how overstuffed Hanzo's closet was. A bar divided the area in half down the middle, allowing for two rows of clothes to hand neatly. The top portion was lined with shirts while the lower held pants and dress shirts Hanzo hardly ever wore.  His brother refused to throw away anything that still had a purpose. If he could fit into his clothes, they stayed. Like everything in Hanzo's life, it was organized, sorted out by color and style.

 

Genji smirked and began to thumb through the lower row, trying to find some sort of pant that Hanzo would not be furious with losing temporarily. He pushed the tuxedo that was carelessly hung and still wrinkled to the side, instead gazing at the pair of jeans behind them, black and tight. They wouldn’t annoy him, nor would Hanzo mind if he stole them for several weeks.

 

He gingerly pulled the pair of pants up and over his hips before kneeling down to look at what kind of footwear Hanzo owned. His white sneakers would clash horribly with the black jeans, and he would not be caught dead outside with such misuse of fashion. Hanzo would understand.

 

He pulled out a pair of black hightops and set them aside for now, curious about what sorts of things his brother kept hidden away from him, sure there was some better form of footwear hidden in the back-something expensive and leather that Hanzo only wore when the time was right, which it never was.

 

His knuckles rapped against something hard and hollow near the back.  “What?” He mumbled as he reached around, feeling the smooth surface of a sleek, wooden trunk until he touched something soft and fleece. A blanket was meticulously placed over it, blocking out the small chest from anyone's view. Hidden.

 

He pulled. It slid easily against the carpet until it bumped against his knees. Genji pushed the blanket off and gazed down at the embossed dragons that stared back at him on the cover of the ancient box. Genji’s throat tightened as he rolled his fingers over the top.  

 

Father had it in his closet, seated in the vast space in a place of honor next to the bench he would sit at to put on his shoes in the morning. Genji remembered sitting next to it while their father dressed in the morning. His fingers would roll over the dragons, giving them childish names and telling his father stories about how they were great warriors that protected the treasure within.

 

Genji’s hand ran over the familiar markings, tracing the scales of the dragons. He only tried to open the box once. His father had turned away to put on his watch, and Genji just wanted a small peek inside.  He had carefully lifted the lid up, and he gazed down at the rich crimson silk that lay within. He reached for it, wanting to feel the softness of the fabric under his fingers. How Oka-san felt so warm and soft when he hugged her, and she wore the beautiful reds.

 

Father scoop him into his impossibly large arms and carry him away before he had the chance to. He scolded Genji on the importance of not touching other people’s belongings before setting him outside the closet and shutting the door.

 

The last time he saw Oka-san's red silks were when they were laid out after her funeral.  He wondered whatever happened to those beautiful colors.

 

Uncle inherited the box next. Unlike Father, he set the box out onto a table in the entryway, claiming it was their family’s honor, and that no one should have to hide away their birthright.  Hanzo had scowled at those words, even as Genji reached for it again, wanting to open it and claim what was his by design.

 

Uncle had rapped his knuckles for that, all while laughing and telling Genji he was just too young for it still.  It was not the time for him to claim his birthright. Genji had to wait. “There will be time, just not now,” His uncle ruffled Genji’s hair and led him along, leaving Hanzo to scowl deeply at the box. 

 

Now, he was older. His hands reached out, under the lid of the box as his heart beat wildly in his chest.  His birthright. His family’s honor. All of it inside this box their father had kept hidden away. In this box that their uncle had proudly displayed.  Once again, in Hanzo's care, it lay hidden from the world.

 

The front door slammed.  

 

Genji jumped. He shoved the box back into the closet with all of his strength and threw the blanket over the top once again obscuring the chest from view. He pulled the clothes back into place with shaking hands as the tuxedo coat tumbled off the hanger and fell with a heavy thump onto the floor.

 

Hanzo's footsteps echoed in the hallway as he called out for Genji.  Genji grabbed the coat and leaped to his feet as something tumbled out of the pocket and onto his foot. He grabbed the hanger and tossed the jacket on before grabbing the thing off his foot. 

 

“Genji?”  Hanzo pushed open his door and turned on the light, confusion evident on his face. “What are you-”  He stopped mid-sentence.

 

Genji's throat was like cotton as he stood there, half dressed in his brother’s room with his fly down and a pair of shoes tossed recklessly onto the floor. He stood hunched over with the tuxedo pocket open in one hand and something cold and heavy in his other.  “I needed clothes,” He tried.

 

Hanzo’s gaze wasn’t on him though but on his right hand, the one that held the object tight in his grip. Genji let his eyes fall from his brother's haggard face to where he gaze was and felt the bite of something sharp against his palm. He turned the object over in his fingers and opened his hand to look at the thing that had fallen out of Hanzo’s pocket. 

 

A pair of sea green emerald earrings caught the light and flickered in his hand. They were too long to fit in his fist properly, the ends dangling over and shaped like two elegant teardrops surrounded by glittering gold. His eyes widened. “Hanzo-” He gasped.

 

He looked back to his brother, expecting to see him still as pale and wide-eyed as Genji felt. Instead, his brother was the color of cherries. His gaze lowered to the bag he held in his hand. His lips were a tight line. “Those-”  Hanzo trailed out at the one word, unable to form a story in his head. “Are-” He added the second word after a long pause.

 

Genji’s eye goes back to the tuxedo coat, his mind rewinding to the party. The manor house being robbed by that vigilante in blue. That vigilante had taken several things that night; the news reported about expensive, one of a kind items that the family wanted to be returned no matter the cost. All pawn shops were on high alert to the thievery, though the police suspected the Vigilante would never sell off his wares.  Images of the stolen earrings adorned every newspaper for days after the incident. 

 

And Genji had chased the thief through alleyways only to have him evade capture again.  Genji had called out to him, needing to know if this was his foster brother. If this villain was Jesse or if Genji just wanted him to be his brother.  He needed to know why Jesse was doing these terrible things.

 

Somehow, the fact his brother had been there that night evaded his memory even though he saw the man standing in the doorway. Hanzo, standing proud and tall in his tuxedo as he shielded Hana away from the Vigilante and watched as the Sentai Warrior took off into the night.

 

Genji tightened his hand around the gems and looked over to Hanzo again.  

 

“I didn’t steal them,” Hanzo stated. 

 

“How-”

 

Hanzo looked down. His fists clenched against the bag in his hand. “The Mystery Man stole them,” He explained with a shrug. “He must have slipped them into my pocket. I didn't realize they were there until later.”

 

“And you just decided not to return them?”

 

Hanzo shrugged again. His eyes moved away from the jewels in his hand to Genji's shocked face.  “How do you return a stolen item like this without going to jail?” He asked. 

 

“So you just kept them?”

 

Hanzo’s face went even redder as his hands flexed. He pulled the bag closer to his body, using it as a shield himself.  “I brought breakfast from that place you like,” he diverted.

 

“Oh no,” Genji stalked over and dangled the earrings from his fingertips for Hanzo to see.  “You just kept them. You could have gone to the police the next day and explained what happened, you were there for work or whatever and the thief slipped them into your pockets and-” He let out a small gasp as realization dawned on him.  “You like that thief!” He hissed.

 

“What?” Hanzo stepped back.  “No. Why would I be interested in a man that does nothing but rob deceased old women? He is crude and awful. Why would I like someone like that? Besides,” Hanzo stepped back and walked out of the room, his eyes still downcast.  “I think that this is an apology. For attacking me.”

 

Genji followed close behind.  “So you think the Mystery Man was flirting with you through expensive, stolen jewelry that you cannot wear?”

 

“Hana thinks he was flirting with me,” Hanzo shrugged again. He set the bag on the counter and pulled out two bowls, filling them with the food he purchased.  Another diversion tactic.

 

“You have to return this, Hanzo. You cannot keep it.” Genji set the earings next to the food and pushed them towards Hanzo. They glittered in the light beautifully, and Genji felt himself wanting nothing more than to put them into his pocket and treasure them.  They had to be worth an absolute fortune, enough to pay off all their debts and then some.

 

“And how would I do that, Genji?  I can’t just walk into the police station now, hand it over and say ‘oops, my bad. Some villain shoved it into my pocket’.” He looked down.  “They will arrest me too, Genji. I am not innocent in this. They would not believe me innocent.” 

 

“Dude,” Genji groaned out the only word that conveyed the absolute torment raging inside him now. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked down at the earrings.  The silence between them grew again as Genji’s mind rattled with how he could solve this. Hanzo was right, taking them into the police would put a target on his head.  And Hanzo did not need a mark on him at all.

 

“Besides,” Hanzo looked down at the jewels. “I look good in green.”

 

“Idiot,” Genji groaned and held his head in his hands at Hanzo's lame attempt at a joke. God, he hoped it was a joke.  “I look good in green. Your color is blue. If that Mystery Man knew you, he would have given you something blue.” 

 

Genji let out another long curse and looked up at Hanzo.  “The Sentai Warrior could do it; turn it in without being caught. He can do those things.”

 

Hanzo scoffed and rolled his eyes, dipping his spoon into the bowl in front of him and stirring the contents.  “The Sentai Warrior? What a joke. Why would that flashy Power Ranger believe anything we said anyway? And how would he know I have these?”

 

He could feel the confession bubbling to the surface. It would be so easy to admit to Hanzo now who he was and why he was always gone. He swallowed the words down. Hanzo would not understand.  He would call it dangerous and childish. Genji could not just blurt out that he was the Sentai Warrior. Not to Hanzo. Not yet, anyway. “I don’t know,” His shoulders sank. 

 

“That idiot would ask too many questions,” Hanzo turned away and threw the spoon into the sink harder than necessary. Metal clanked against metal.  “He would be just as interested in learning how I acquired these. It would be the same scenario, except now I have a masked idiot attacking me and not the police.”

 

“Tell him the truth, Hanzo! The Mystery Man-”

 

“Flirted with me, then felt me up and lined my pockets with jewels in front of a crowded room? Yes, Genji, that will go over real well. I look involved."

 

Genji probed at the jewels on the counter, letting them catch the sun’s light and reflect in a rainbow on the ceiling.  “Let me think about it, okay?”

 

Hanzo scoffed and rolled his eyes.  “Do not tell anyone of this, Genji. I fear what will happen if others know. I want them here, where no one knows where they are and I am safe. I will come up with a plan to satisfy us both.”

 

________

 

Jesse could feel his heart beating heavily inside his chest. This whole plan suddenly felt dumb. It went against every sense of logic instilled in him, and yet, at the same time he did not care. His nerved bubbled up inside of him and threatened to explode out of his throat as the minutes ticked by and still there was no sign of the Demon Thief.

 

“Are you sure your little friend is coming?” Brigette asked.

 

His attention snapped to the woman seated up on the workbench, twirling a screwdriver in her hands as she waited with him looking calmer than he felt.  Her hair was pulled back into a high, tight ponytail with a ball cap over the top. A smudge of dark grease on her cheek as a reminder that he pulled her out of work to come.

 

Jesse shrugged his shoulders and went back to pulling on the edges of his black leather gloves, the frown settling deeper on his face. “I gave him the time and location, ‘Gitte. I ain’t his keeper.”

 

Brigitte’s frown deepened. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly looking very much like of the rest of the Lindholm clan; impressively strong and built like a wall.  “Pappa would not be happy to hear I am using his facility-and his tools to aid and abet criminals.”

 

“Then don’t tell him,” Jesse spat out. “Ya still haven’t told him about me.”

 

“You are different, Jesse,” Brigitte sighed. She slipped off the table and moved over to rearrange the set of wrenches left out.  “Pappa felt it was his duty to help out Uncle Jack and Gabe way back in the day. It kills him every day that they are gone and-” She slammed her hands down on the bench. “Helping you is different, Jesse.”

 

Jesse rose to his full height and moved over.  “You always watched my back, Gitte,” He sighed and removed his hat, running a hand through his hair before returning it to its place on top of his head.  “I couldn’t do this without you. I know you think he is a villain too but he’s not. There is more to him, I swear.”

 

“If your friend does not arrive soon, I am going to have to leave,” Brigette frowned and poked Jesse in the chest with a single finger after each word for emphasis.  “Pappa doesn’t like it when I stay out late and have to walk home alone. He worries.”

 

“Give it like, five more minutes,” Jesse looked down at his watch. 

 

Nine forty-five. It had only been fifteen minutes, but it felt like time was moving at a snail’s pace. The Demon Thief was punctual. He was beginning to worry. "He is only fifteen minutes late, That ain't bad."

 

Her hands clenched on the workbench as she gave a short nod.  “What should I call you when your thief gets here? I’m sure you don’t trust this thief enough to give out your real name, Jesse.”

 

He winced at the cold words that cut deep.  “Most people call me the Vigilante or the Mystery Man,” He gave a little shrug.

 

Brigette chuckled, “Leave it to you to come up with the worst possible names. If my dad asks-”

 

“Repairing my truck,” Jesse nodded, comfortable with the simple lie.  “Tell him I trashed the car again and you are rebuilding it or whatever you want. You can enjoy watching him chew me out at the next family barbeque.”  

 

“You know he is going to chew your ass out. I’ll make sure Reinhardt gets you too,” She smirked as she pulled several small tools out of her belt and laid them out on the workbench.  

 

Brigette looked down at her phone as it vibrated loudly against the metal bench.  “There is your boyfriend. Just triggered the sensors.” She smirked over at him. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

 

Jesse scowled as he turned on heel and stalked out of the garage and into the warm night air.   The Demon Thief was just outside the padlocked gate, looming in the dark shadows just outside the sightlines of the cameras as Jesse had instructed.  He counted to thirty before moving to the gate and unlocking it, sliding it open just enough for the ninja to slip through. “My associate turned off the cameras, we have two minutes to get back in before the alarm goes off,” He stated in a hushed tone. “You are late.”

 

The Demon Thief nodded in understanding as he passed by him silently. “Apologies,” He stated calmly. “There was a police car that was patrolling outside your little shop. I had to wait for it to pass.”

 

Jesse gave a short nod as he led him around the rows of cars in various states of disrepair, each one a scrapped mess for the patriarch of the Lindholm clan to tear apart for his amusement and rebuild.  

 

It was interesting to see a man who spent his life developing state of the art armor for military purposes forced into retirement too soon and now working at changing the oil in old jalopies.  "The girl inside owes me a favor, he explained quietly. "Her old man was in deep a while back, lost his job and his reputation. I helped clear his name and proved his technology wasn't to blame." 

 

The Demon Thief's eyes wandered around, looking at the stacks of scrap in the corners of the yard.  "May I ask what happened?"

 

"That terrorist attack," Jesse shook his head and tightened the mask on his face.  "They used his technology in the attack, and since the authorities could never find out who bombed the buildings, he took the blame. If he had never invented that tech, then the attack would have never happened. It was bullshit.  I mainly helped his daughter prove that he had no hand in it and that what he built was armor to protect from bullets, not keep buildings from falling. It was a bullshit thing with bullshit reasons, and once the people saw that, they stopped hounding his family.

 

Jesse locked the door behind him as he led the Demon Thief through the side door, "You excited for the upgrade?" He asked, changing the subject before Brigitte heard. 

 

The thief gave one short nod.  "If this is as good as you say it is, I would appreciate a...reimagining of my image."  He stated with a smirk.

 

Jesse felt his heart flutter in his chest at that arrogant look.  He smirked back. "Baby, I am the best you are ever gonna have."

 

"We will see about that," the thief pushed past him and into the main garage where Brigette stood, waiting for them. Her arms crossed over her broad chest and a frown on her thin lips as she watched them enter with hard eyes. 

 

“That is Brigette. She’s the one. Best mechanic in the city. Her daddy developed body tech for the army way back in the day. She owes me a handful of favors. For various things.” He winked behind his mask at the woman, who did not move a muscle.

 

She regarded Hanzo with a quiet resolve before giving a slight nod in recognition. “And this is the last favor I am doing for him,” Slowly she uncrossed her arms and walked forward. She turned around the thief, glancing at his form as she spoke, “Our Mystery Man told me that you were looking for a more suitable armor. I’m your woman.”

 

“He spoke highly of you,” The Demon Thief stated and watched as she continued to circle him.  

 

“He better speak highly of me,” Brigette smirked, her brown eyes softened a fraction as she looked over at him.  “If not, I won’t repair his armor next time he decides to nosedive off the roof of a building.”

The Demon Thief looked over to Jesse and arched a brow under his mask.  “Armor?”

 

“Ja,”  Brigette nodded. “Specially designed by me. Lightweight for movement but able to stop most things from penetrating his skin. I wished to make him something heavier, but our Mystery Man prefers style over substance.” 

 

She moved back to her bench and pulled out a tape measure and a small notebook before walking back to him. “I can get you a prototype by the end of the week. I am thinking full body armor that will not limit your movement but will give you greater dexterity in your movement. Lightweight as well, but able to stop a punch from that Sentai Warrior.”

 

The Demon Thief frowned and stepped away as she lifted the tape up to his arm.  “How do you know so much about me?”

 

“She watches the news like the rest of us. Ya ain’t some shadow in the night there, Ninja. Plus, you work with me. Trust her. She’s the best.”

 

He turned back to Brigette and gave a curt nod and held out his arm. Soon, she was working her way around his frame, making notations in her book while asking him questions about his activities. How fast could he climb? What sort of equipment did he use? What was his range of motion?

 

For every question, the Demon Thief replied with a short answer, just enough information to get her what she needed without sacrificing any of his autonomy.  He stretched for her, showing off his flexibility, skill, and strength, much to her approval.

 

Jesse sat back and watched the two work around each other, neither one completely trusting the other, but both equally eager for something new.  Brigitte had been bored with his Mystery Man costume, mainly creating a lightweight body vest under his crisp suit, making him a boring anti-hero that flounced around and left. She was never happy with it though, calling him bulky under his ensemble and left him with strange movements that took away most of his natural swagger.

 

This thief though would give her a challenge.  He needed her to build him something lightweight with movement. Something that would allow him to blend into the darkness and intimidate enemies instead of standing there like an old man in a costume.

 

“I have some things,” Brigitte stated as she stepped away. “I would still need to form them to your shape, but I want to know your opinion.” The thief nodded once. She moved into the back storage space and came back with a large duffle bag. She set it down on the workbench and, like magic, pieces of armor appeared like she was a knight’s page, setting out his shield.  Boots, gauntlets, greaves, pauldrons, and vambraces scattered along the floor in various colors and shapes. 

 

The thief moved over, trying on each piece one at a time before walking around the small space while telling her the strengths and drawbacks to every part presented. He spoke like a man used to wearing gear. A man informed on how to armor himself for battle. With each note he gave, Brigette worked in her small notebook, furiously writing before handing him yet another thing, then another and another until finally, she stood back to her full height, stuffing the bag full again and walking it back to the storage room without another word.

 

She came back and nodded.  “I will have a prototype done in a week.” 

 

The Demon Thief bowed deeply to her,  “My thanks.”

 

She gave one final nod and looked to Jesse. “We are done with favors after this.”

 

_________

 

“Did it go well?”  Zenyatta sat in the center of the room, his face downturned and his hands on his knees as Genji entered the room. 

 

Genji sighed and walked forward, dropping onto his knees by the omnic.  “Where is everyone? Another retreat?” it was something the order enjoyed, he realized.  They loved to travel together and meet new people while Zenyatta remained behind to tend to the grounds.

 

Zenyatta let out a small hum. “It was five dollar Tuesdays at the drive-in. Plus a double feature. Everyone was quite excited to go.”

 

Genji sighed and laid down, resting his head against the warmth of Zenyatta’s thigh. The monk let out another soft hum of approval and carded his fingers carefully through Genji’s hair.  “Why didn’t you go with them?”

 

“You are avoiding my question, Genji,” Zenyatta stated, his voice still even and smooth. “Did it go well? You stayed all night with your brother.”

 

Genji nodded, letting his eyes close as he leaned into that soft petting.  “It….was strange,” He said. He spoke quietly, telling his friend all that had happened. Everything except about those enormous sea green earrings and how they dangled off his fingers.  Except for that burning desire he had to pocket them himself and keep them away from prying eyes.

 

“I am glad to hear you both are on the path to recovery,” Zenyatta tilted his head to the side as he worked out some of the knots in his short hair.  “And I am glad you are still here, my friend. I find your presence here...therapeutic.”

 

Genji smiled and looked up at the omnic.  “I couldn’t agree more.”

 

Lena’s teasing words from before floated in his mind, calling Zenyatta his boyfriend as if what they shared was something more than the quiet comfort they found in each other.  

 

He reached up and covered Zenyatta’s hand in his, letting his thumb stroke along the long digits of his fingers while the question formed in the back of his throat. Were they more than friends? He felt his heart pound through his chest as the casual petting of his hair continued down the sides of his face and across his throat.  Could Zenyatta even have a romantic relationship?

 

Was it possible?

 

“You look troubled, my friend,”  Zenyatta hummed and scattered Genji’s fears.

 

“Not at all,” He smiled and continued to trace his fingers along Zenyatta’s. Wanting to touch him. Feel his strength.  “I have no troubles when I am with you.”

 

__________

 

“Your friend distrusts me,” The thief stated. He settled himself along the edge of the roof and looked over to the man next to him. “She thinks I am a villain.”

 

“Can you blame her?” The vigilante chuckled as he settled near, his legs dangling down the roof as he knocked his shoulder against the other man’s.  “You do come off with a serious bad-guy vibe.”

 

“Her design looks flawless. I hope it lives up to her plans,” the Demon Thief said again.  Below them, the neon lights of the city danced along the pavement, speaking to the people far below them.  It was bright there, even in the dead of night. There were no shadows. Not like on the roofs where they sat quietly watching. The distance bass of the dance clubs only an echo in the distance.

 

“She is excellent at what she does. It will look like her plans, but better. I’ll take you back in when she is ready and get you properly fit soon.” Brigette managed to show him a sketch of her plans before they left. She liked the thief’s aesthetic and stated that she would incorporate his culture into her final design more. Instead, she would give him something form fitting to his torso, giving him reach of motion without getting caught in his billowing sleeves or silk shirt.  Boots would be made to enhance his climbing speed and grip on the sides of buildings with gloves to aid as well.

 

The most significant change would be his mask.  Brigitte wanted something to aid with his ability to breathe, giving him greater intake of oxygen when he needed it, as well as a communicator so he could stay in constant contact with Jesse. Gone was the makeshift domino mask and instead he was granted something that covered the lower half of his face, giving him greater security as it was less likely to fall out of place while he worked.  

 

It was a beautiful design in concept and Jesse could not wait to see the thief in his new garb.

 

“It is a shame though,” The thief clicked his tongue and shook his head, pulling Jesse from his thoughts and back on the man seated next to him. “Soon I won’t be able to do this.”

 

“Do what-” His thoughts fled from his mind as the thief's hand came up and tangled in his hair. He pulled Jesse forward until their lips crashed together. The thief tilted his head to the side, slowly working Jesse’s mouth open as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. 

 

The thief pulled away, panting hard with a self-satisfied smirk on his elegant features. Jesse leaned in, chasing his soft lips until they met again, softly, timidly at first before the fire overtook him and he grabbed at the other man and pulled him into his lap.

 

The thief groaned. He settled deeper into his lap and wrapped his arms around Jesse's lap and let out another predatory growl and he caught his lips in another heated kiss.

 

His arms wrapped around the thief, balling his fists into the thin fabric of his gi as their lips crashed together, desperately pulling at the other. He could feel the ripple of solid muscle under the thin material as the thief let out a predatory growl and leaned in further, his tongue colliding and entwining with the other.

 

Already, Jesse could feel the heat rise off the other man’s skin. He could feel the bulge against his stomach and felt the fire lick down his spine and settle in his belly.  “Too long,” The thief growled. His lips trailed down the side of Jesse’s neck, suckling dark bruises into his skin.

 

Jesse nodded in agreement and twisted in his grasp, trying to get his skin closer to the warmth of that delicious mouth. Strong hands tipped the hat off his head, sending it onto the flat roof with a plop as fingers twisted into his hair, yanking at the long strands and pulling him with ease.  Jesse rolled his hips upwards, pulling a heady groan from them both as his bulge ground into the other.

 

“Too long,” He repeated. His hands fisted in the sides of the shirt Hanzo wore, working on the ties until it fell open. Bare flesh pressed against his covered chest an sent sparks of electricity to course through his veins.  Even in the dark, he could see the barest outline of the smooth muscle under his clothes. How perfectly cut the man was in every way. 

 

The thief’s mouth kissed along every inch of skin he could find in a flurry of hands and teeth all over his exposed neck.  Hands trailed down over Jesse’s tight stomach, pulling the fabric out of the band of his pants as needy hands grasped and freed the fastenings to his pants.  

 

The Demon Thief smirked in triumph as he grasped his prize in his hand, pulling Jesse free of the restrictions of his pants and into his heated hands. Gently, he stroked over his length, petting the erection into fullness as Jesse fell back against the flat surface of the roof. He lifted his hips a fraction, just enough to let the thief work his pants further down his hips and free him into the warm night air.

 

Slow, lazy strokes against his flesh was all it took to have the masked man writhing. He bit the back of his hand to keep from wailing out loud as the other man continued to straddle his hips, pinning him down to the spot and preventing him from thrusting with wild abandon into his tight first. 

 

“Fuck, been too long,” Jesse moaned and rolled his hips up. His hand grasped at the still covered erection of the thief, palming at his need and pulling a low groan from the other.   He swore again as he pulled at the tie keeping the traditional pants tied up on the thief's slim waist until it pulled free. The hakama fell loose around his hips, pooling against Jesse's trapped him and exposing the thief to the night air.

 

It was the thief's time to swear as the calloused thumb rolled over the crown of his head, smearing the pearls of precum down his length before gripping him hard in his hand and pumping in time with the man's thrusting hips.

 

The Demon Thief lorded over him as he settled on Jesse's hips, rolling himself forward hips as those dark eyes gazed down from behind that mask, making the vigilante squirm underneath.  The thief's hand moved to his side, untying the bag that rested against his hip and dropping it farther away as he opened his shirt more. He raised his hips and moved the pants off his body before straddling Jesse's hips once more, rubbing the tips of their cocks together, teasing the Vigilante with the barest of touches.

 

“God, tell me you prepared for this,”  Jesse let out a low groan as he resisted the urge to take them both into his hand.  Already, he was so close to cuming. Already he could feel that coil tightening inside his belly and threating to snap. 

 

The thief chuckled as he leaned forward, settling himself just above the vigilante. Jesse licked his dry lips as he reached above him and cupped that ample chest in his hands, squeezing the sensitive flesh and pulling the other man down.  His pink tongue darted out, licking a line along the other man's clavicle. The thief shivered, dropping his chest down into Jesse's waiting mouth and let out another throaty moan right into his ear. His breath was hot against his skin. 

 

“Am I ever unprepared?”  He purred out. His voice was thick and primal as he moaned low, one hand pressed against Jesse’s side while the other.

 

The thief rocked his hips forward, canting into Jesse's again as more low, throaty moans pressed into his ear. He reached above him and grasped the small bag he dropped before and pulled out a small bottle. His lips pressed against Jesse's again, hungry and ready to devour as he moaned heavily into his skin again.

 

Jesse groaned, his hands moving up the back of the other man’s bare thighs.  “Tell me you are doing what I think you are doing,” He stated, his voice just as thick and raspy as the other man’s.  

 

The thief sat back, just a fraction. Just enough to allow the vigilante a view of his three glistening fingers as they smoothly moved behind him and pressed against his entrance.  The thief moaned as his fingers breached his hole, arching his back and pulling the digits into his waiting body.

 

Jesse was transfixed. He watched the thief rolled his hips above him, moaning out his pleasure. There was no one else here to hear that sweet voice. No one else to see how the thief sucked on his lower lip as his eyes fluttered closed.  This was a private show, all for the Vigilante “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Jesse rolled his hands up the thief's sides and over his arms, dropping the gi open and exposing more of the thief's body. 

 

Even cloaked in shadows, the thief was exquisite. The dark shadows played off his rippling muscles as he sat back down on Jesse's hips, rocking himself forward and hissing into his ear.  "Tell me you want me," He demanded, his voice raspy against Jesse's skin.

 

"God, I want you," Jesse wetted his dry lips.  He reached forward and caught the thief's lips again as those strong hands once again wrapped around his length and pumped. He let out a needy whine and arched up into that delirious pressure. "Keep doin' me like that and  I won't make it to the good parts."

 

The thief chuckled and rolled a condom down his length.  "Who is to say this isn't the good part?" He lifted up his hips as he firmly grasped his heated erection, lining it up with his stretched hole. 

 

Jesse tensed as he felt the tip of his cock breach the other man's body. He twisted the fabric that hung by the thief's sides tightly in his grasp, trying his best not just to take what he wanted from the other man. He trembled.

 

The thief groaned and slowly lowered himself down at an agonizing pace.  His thighs quivered at each inch stretched inside him, longer and thicker than any of his fingers.  "Too long," The thief repeated the moment he was fully seated. "Oh god, it's been too long."

 

Jesse's legs still dangled off the side of the building as he lay there under the other man, watching his face contort between a mixture of agony and pleasure.  His hands rolled over the thief's bare thighs as he whispered sweet nothings into the darkness.

 

The thief rolled his hips, dragging his cock against Jesse's stomach as he began to move at an agonizing pace. Still, Jesse petted at his exposed skin, worshiping the other man with his eyes as the other started to move with more fervor.  

 

“Careful of the suit, Darlin’, it’s dry clean only,” He reached down and grasped the thief's cock in hand.

 

“Send me the bill,” The thief laughed. He pulled up slowly before dropping down onto his cock, again and again, setting up a tantalizingly slow rhythm that had Jesse chewing at the inside of his mouth to keep from crying out. 

 

“God damn, you are beautiful,” He moaned out again and leaned up onto his elbows and kissed along his exposed clavicle.  “Ain’t gonna last long,” He shivered, rolling the fingers of his free hand up the other's spine, tracing each one of the notches along the way. 

 

“Then fuck me hard,” the thief growled.

 

Those words were all he needed.  

 

Jesse gripped the other man’s hips hard enough to bruise and thrust up into his soft, warm body. The man moaned, reaching down and wrapped his hands around his cock, furiously pumping himself in time with Jesse's thrusts, matching them with his own.

 

The sound of skin, slapping against skin filled the air as  Jesse’s toes curled in his shoes. He could feel the thief’s body tightening around his cock.  “N-No idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” He moaned and leaned up, and kissed him, losing the rhythm, but needing to feel his body everywhere. Wanting the thief to moan out his name against his lips.

 

The thief's shoulder's hunched as he let out another breathless cry against Jesse's lips. His mouth dropped open as the first hot wave of cum splattered against Jesse's, over and over. Marking him. Claiming him.

 

It was too much. Jesse groaned and lifted the other man off his aching cock and laid him out on the roof. He pulled off the condom and began to fist himself furiously, watching those beautiful dark eyes that watched his every movement.

 

"Do it," the thief groaned. He reached down and grasped Jesse in his hand.  "Cum," He commanded.

He let out a staggering cry as the coil within him burst. The thief smirked as Jesse shuttered above him, his vision going white for the barest of moments as he collapsed on top of the other.

 

He buried his nose in the side of the other's neck and shivered, his hips continuing to rock against him, slower now.  "Damn," He groaned and let his arms move around the other's heated body, nuzzling into the space between his shoulder and neck.  "Just...Damn."

 

Soft hands petted along the side of his face and through his hair, tenderly brushing the matted hair back.  "You know," The thief pressed his lips against Jesse's sweat-soaked forehead. "My costume is dry clean only."

 

“Send me the bill.”

 

________

 

Genji slumped forward in the chair and idly adjusted the gloves on his hands, pressing his fingers together in an attempt to get the suit to lay right.  Always before the Sentai Warrior armor conformed to his body but this time it felt two sizes too small. He felt suffocated by the tightness around his chest. The seams bit into his skin and left him silently squirming as he waited. 

 

Time was creeping by at a snail's pace as he watched men and women exit the elaborate office, all while throwing him calloused confused looks. It wasn't as if he could blame them. How often did someone see a superhero sitting in the lobby of a businessman, waiting his turn obediently like a child outside the principal's office?

 

It didn't help that the woman behind the receptionist desk kept throwing him steely glances with those wickedly sharp eyes of hers. He did not belong here, seated among the opulent art deco decor like a green smudge of snot against the warm yellows and reds. She made that clear.

 

He had tried being friendly, asking her questions and trying to initiate a conversation, but instead, she opened her desk drawer and began to file at her nails as she crossed one elegantly long leg over the other and reclined back in her chair. 

 

She did not say a word to him, but warmly greeted the others that passed by, offering up polite conversations to those that waltzed right into  Akande Ogundimu's office without once touching the seats in the waiting area.

 

Genji leaned forward and opened his mouth. The woman held up a hand, demanding silence.  "Mr. Ogundimu will see you when he is not busy," She stated crisply. 

 

She was frightening.

 

He sat back in his chair and glanced at the clock hanging from the wall. Already two hours had passed with no sign of relief. His back ached from sitting for so long. It was apparent these were pieces of furniture designed for style in mind, not for the comfort of patrons.

 

Mr. Ogundimu had been clear; the Sentai Warrior was welcome to drop in at any time. He was a hero to the city and a protector of the innocent.  No door would shut him out, and he would find a friend in every corner of the city. It seemed that dropping in unexpectedly on a Tuesday morning put him in ranks with every other citizen that did not have an appointment. 

 

He should have called ahead.

 

He closed his eyes and tilted his head forward, trying his best to ignore the ache that ran up his spine. He internally ran through the conversation again, wanting to sound intelligent when he entered through that door.  Akande Ogundimu was the epitome of class and elegance, Genji did not want to look like a fool.

 

He was here for advice on how to address a situation out of his control.  Someone-definitely not his brother Hanzo- happened upon a piece of stolen property. That stolen property has become very visible over the last several days with constant reports of its disappearance, how could the Sentai Warrior turn something like that in without raising any questions?

 

How could he convince his brother to not pursue that masked vigilante as a romantic partner and stick to sensible men like a plumber or handyman like before?

 

“Monsieur Warrior,” The woman looked up at him slowly, disdain dripped from every word as she set the nail file down on her desk and leaned forward.  “Mr. Ogundimu is ready for you.” She pressed a button on the phone. The hall echoed with a buzz, signaling the door’s unlocking. "He is a busy man, do not keep him waiting."

 

Genji's thoughts scattered as he leaped to his feet and passed into the opulent office, his heart pounded inside his throat as he tried to swallow around it. The door shut behind him with a loud bang.  

 

“Mr. Ogundimu," He announced himself, his voice cracked. He winced.

 

“Sentai Warrior,” Akande stood at the end of his office next to his elaborate wet bar. He did not look up as he poured a dark burgundy liquid into a glass. “I was not expecting to hear from you today. Apologies for the wait, I hope I did not keep you long.”

 

Genji’s stomach twisted as the man turned and fastened him with a look he could not read. Akande swirled the liquid in the glass before taking a long drink. "Come, sit." He swept his arm out, motioning to the chair across from his desk that was identical to the ones in his lobby.  Genji flinched at the idea of sitting again.

 

“Sit," Akande said again. Genji obeyed. "Tell me what brings you to here today,”  Akande moved smoothly around his desk and seated himself into the large leather chair. “I must warn you; I do not have much time to speak, I have a dinner appointment in Barcelona.”

 

“Of course,” Genji shifted in the chair, his spine rigid and straight as he folded his hands in his lap. His mind blanked on the conversation he built up in his head as the man across from him arched an eyebrow and leaned forward. “I came because of the heist," He blurted.

 

“Heist? Another one?” Akande scoffed and leaned back in his chair.  “These arrogant thieves are getting out of control.”

 

“No, I-” He swallowed.  Hanzo did not want him to speak of this.  “I have a hypothetical question to ask you. An ethical one.”  He reiterated. 

 

Akande paused with bringing the glass to his lips again.  Slowly, he set the wine down and looked Genji over. “Do tell.”

 

Under his suit, his skin itched. His body was drenched in sweat, only adding to the misery of feeling trapped inside the large helmet that obstructed his view and the stale air he breathed.  “What would a citizen do if they came across one of the stolen pieces of jewelry?” He asked. “Like, say they own a pawn shop, and one of the jewels ended up in their possession?”

 

Akande hummed. His raised the glass and took a long sip, pondering the question.  “The obvious answer is to notify the authorities. What I assume is that this person is unable to go to the police without making it seem like that are involved in other illegal activity.” He set the crystal on his desk and leaned back in his seat. “Tell me, Warrior, is this person you speak of the one that stole the item in question? I speak hypothetically of course.”

 

Genji shook his head quickly; his voice caught in his throat as he licked at his dry lips.  He felt the sweat trickle down the side of his head as he clenched his fists in his hand. “No,” He finally answered. “They did not steal it.”  

 

Akande let out a long, low sigh.  “We are still speaking hypothetically, correct?”

 

Genji nodded, wiping his palms against his knees as he took in another deep breath. The air inside his helmet tasted stale against his tongue.  “Yes.”

 

Akande fixed him with a long stare before he looked away. He pulled up the holographic screen from his desk and began to type as he spoke.  “Since we are not talking about any real objects or any real scenarios, let me ask you, what was it your friend has in their possession. Hypothetically.”   

 

“Something that was stolen,” Genji answered quickly. 

 

Akande turned the screen until it faced Genji. A jeweler’s dress form was on display, black against a stark white background.  Glittering sea green jewels dangled elegantly off the thick gold band clasped around the form’s neck, dripping down into the cleavage with large tear-shaped gems surrounded by smaller gems of the same color.  The light danced, even in a still photograph. 

 

Pinned to the side of the mannequin was an equally elegant long, teardrop-shaped earring that barely brushed against the form’s shoulder. It sparked in the light of the camera and looked so very heavy. And so very familiar. 

 

Genji’s breath caught.

 

Akande spoke, “This is the only piece of the Montgomery collection that is still unaccounted. This piece of jewelry was what that Vigilante was after that night, my boy.”  

 

“I-” His voice cracked.

 

“It is called The Gentle Prayer,” Akande looked away from Genji and frowned deeply.  “Is this the item your friend has in their custody, Warrior. Is this the piece you saw?”

 

He nodded. Once.  “The earrings.”

 

“Just the earrings?”

 

Genji nodded again watching as Akande’s frown deepened as he turned the screen back around to face himself.  Panic surged inside him, “The thief slipped them into this citizen’s pocket without him knowing.” He blurted out, grasping hard onto the sides of the chair.  

 

“The thief is looking to kill your friend then,” Akande’s voice was cold.  “These gems have a long and sorted past. Every one of their masters has befallen a terrible fate.   The gems were stolen and reforged into the necklace and earrings you see before you, recut and refocused to fit the idealistic needs of the royal families of Europe without any consideration to the peoples that owned it before. They say many of the smaller gems broke away from the main stone. Those fragments were in turned sold and set into other pieces, rings, and bracelets, smaller ornaments that could be given to friends of the family as tokens of peace. It mocked the land these jewels came from and formed a cursed.”

 

Genji’s lips felt numb. The corner of his vision tunneled as he grasped harder to the sides of the chair.  “Wh-” He breathed out.

 

Akande’s face broke into a smile. “Of course none of that is true. Curses and demons are nothing more than children’s stories told to dull people. If you care about your hypothetical friend though, my dear Sentai Warrior, know that is stolen goods are found in their possession, they will be prosecuted.”

 

His heart started to beat again.  Genji closed his eyes and nodded slowly.  “Of course, but-”

 

“But how do you turn them in without an investigation?” Akande finished his thought for him.  “I am good friends with the benefactors of the Montgomery estate. Their one wish is to have the items returned to them. Return the earrings and the necklace to me, and I will get them to their rightful owners. No questions asked.” 

 

“Why?” Genji asked before he could stop himself. 

 

“Why?” Akande repeated. “Boy, I am placing my trust in you that you will get those back to me. You are already making the right choices by coming to me with this information, and I am putting my reputation on the line to keep your friend out of harm’s way. I am trusting that the story you are telling me is accurate and true. All I ask is you return the earrings and necklace to me.”

 

Genji breathed again. He bobbed his head quickly as he twisted his hands away from the hard grip on the sides of the chair.  “I will get you the earrings-”

 

“And the necklace,” Akande interjected.  “They are a set. They were taken together, and I will return them together.”

 

“But I only know about the earrings,” Genji implored.

 

“Then it is in your best interest to find the necklace as well, Hero,” Akande’s voice was cool again.  He lifted the glass of wine to his lips and drained the remainder of the liquid before setting the empty glass down on the desk.  “It is obvious to me that this Vigilante is the one to take them both. If you find the Mystery Man, you will find the necklace. Get the Vigilante, Warrior.”

 

_________

 

“Do I have any say in where we go today?” Hanzo growled out as Hana dragged him around yet another corner and down yet another downtown street he did not recognize.  Hana insisted on walking, which should have aided him in his understanding of where they were, but her constant shifting of streets and insisting on “shortcuts” through parks and alleyways would have made it difficult for even the highest quality assassin to follow. 

 

Currently, they were in an area of town surrounded by small boutiques that lined either edge of the street. Each one cleverly marked with its own with tasteful, welcoming signs drawing in patrons. Quaint coffee shops and bakeries gave off inviting aromas that twisted Hanzo’s stomach, reminding him fiercely that he had missed a morning meal and was now in desperate need for sustenance and caffeine. 

 

Hana wrapped her arms tighter around his bicep and smiled wickedly.  “Not even a little bit.” Her arms snaked closer, like an octopus with its prey.  The worst part was the knowledge that he could easily break her hold and push the girl away if he desired.

 

But bribery was a powerful force.

 

Like a storybook witch, Hana arrived that morning at his doorstep, holding out the antique music box that formerly belonged to the Montgomery estate like it was a poisoned apple, ripe for the taking. She tempted him with it, reciting how she saw his eyes on it at that dreadful party, and how she had the social clout to purchase it from under his nose. She knew he could not resist.

 

Her demands were unjustly uncomplicated as well; a single day out with her, doing what she wanted, no questions asked.  They would do what Hana wanted when she wanted and how she wanted.

 

He was a fool for accepting her offer blindly.

 

The moment she dragged him inside a trendy tattoo parlor, Hana Song thwarted his expectations.  Hana had the nerve to pop her pink bubblegum as she pushed him forward and told him to pick something out for himself. Something nice. Her treat. She said it with a wink as she pushed him down into a chair, signaling they would not be leaving until she had her way.

 

“You aren’t protesting as much as I thought you would be,” Hana huffed, pulling him out of his thoughts. She rested her ear against his bicep as they walked.  “You are making this not as fun for me. I wanted to see you flip out and make a scene.”

 

“Your goal for the day was to annoy me,” Hanzo smirked.  “You and my brother are one-and-the-same. I am not going to bow to your whims here, Miss Song.”

 

Hana snorted a laugh and pushed him. “Says the man who needed to be talked into getting his ears re-pierced from a whole team of experts in a shop who were going to do it with no cost to you.”

 

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the dull ache of the swollen earlobes.  “Piercings are unprofessional. Look at my brother.”

 

“Jealousy is unbecoming,”  Hana wrapped herself around his arm again, rather enjoying the contact with the other man.  “And you are too wrapped up in appearances to enjoy your life. Get a haircut. Pierce your nose. Earrings are not taboo for men to wear anymore, you are just repressing yourself for some stupid reason.”

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes again, “I am only going along with your flights of fancy to amuse you so I can get my hands on your box, nothing else.” The words escaped his mouth just as he realized their double meaning.  He felt his face flush.

 

“Well now,” Hana snickered.  “Here I was figuring you were nicer today because you got dicked hard last night.”

 

Embarrassment flushed deeper across his features.  

 

Hana continued before he could voice his thoughts, “How did I know? Easy,” She held up a finger, “You weren’t scowling at all when I came to the door this morning. In fact, you seemed well rested and almost glowing.” She held up a second finger, “You agreed to let me put holes in your head without much of an argument, so you obviously are wanting to show off a little, which speaks volumes to a new love interest.” Her third finger went up, “Finally, you get that same doofy look on your face that Genji gets when he is totally not in love, but really he is.”

 

Hanzo looked across the street, trying to focus on anything but the young woman next to him. “Genji is in love?”

 

“Aah,” She pulled Hanzo to a stop on the street.  “No changing the subject here, Buckaroo. We aren’t talking Genji here. We are talking about you. And the fact you aren’t denying getting fucked. Now, admit it.”

 

Hanzo’s face heated up more as he looked back at her smug, satisfied face.  “Fine,” He growled. “I may have hooked up with someone the other night, and it may have been...acceptable.”

 

“Admitting you are horny is an impressive first step, Hanzo,” Hana smiled. “The second step is to make sure everyone is just as thirsty for you.”  

 

Hanzo arched an eyebrow, “And How do you suggest I do that?

 

_____________

 

Hanzo ran his hand along the back of his head, feeling the soft, short hairs bristle against his fingertips.  It was an odd sensation to explore the individual hairs poke at his fingers and fall neatly against his neck. He could not stop touching.

 

Hana had been right. He would never say it out loud, but he did feel more like himself than he had ever felt before, not bogged down by the rules or what others wanted, but what he desired himself.  There was something deeply cathartic about watching the tendrils of hair falling in clumps around the chair mixed with the humming buzz of the cutters that vibrated behind his ears.

 

She had not judged him while he explained his midnight rendezvous (of course leaving out the parts about him dressed as a thief while fucking another notorious thief), and she seemed enamored with the idea of his short tryst with a stranger.

 

He fingered through the long hair that remained at the crown of his head. It was a good look on him, he decided. It gave him an alternative look, but not so out there that he could not go more conservative if needed.  

 

It felt freeing. Like a new start that Hanzo desperately needed.

 

Hana invited him out afterward. She would be meeting Genji for dinner, and they were to go out as a group to the opening of some new establishment with loud music and overpriced drinks. He almost agreed. Alcohol consumed in a loud club sounded awful, but he did appreciate the sentiment.  What he wanted now was to sit in the quiet of his rooms for a while, then maybe seek out some of his own amusements. Besides, it wasn’t like Genji would have wanted to go out with his older brother socially anyway.

 

She then left him in the same state of flurry that she arrived in, dropping Hanzo outside his door with a new sense of freeness inside of him that had not been there before.  

 

Hanzo smiled to himself as he worked the key into the apartment door and pushed his way inside.  He ran a hand through his hair again, reveling in the softness and the weightlessness of his new cut as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed his bottle of water out of the fridge.  He dropped the keys into the basket. 

 

There was something profoundly appealing to having another touch and stroke along the soft hairs of his head. Jesse had enjoyed playing with his hair all those times they laid out together, allowing Hanzo to get lost in the sensation of those long fingers curling around his locks and pulling him in closer. The feeling of the other’s soft lips burning against his skin while the man’s large hands would tangle themselves against the back of his head. His other hand would slowly work its way down his spine until it rested on the small of his back and he would-

 

Hanzo shook his head, banishing the thoughts away.  Such ideas were foolish now. He had effectively destroyed any hope of seeing Jesse McCree again. His callous words and actions made sure of that.  

 

The pain lingered still. He missed the ridiculous man.

 

He shouldn’t have been so cruel.

 

No, he had work to accomplish, and Jesse McCree did nothing but further complicate his already chaotic life.  

 

Hanzo had another item to cross off the list of ridiculous requests from Akande Ogundimu. Currently, it lay resting on his coffee table, legally obtained, unlike the earrings his Mystery Man had stolen. 

 

At first, he worried the Mystery Man had figured out his identity. He had asked the man to steal the necklace for him. Ogundimu had that little item on his list as well. It was a set though, earrings and a necklace were to remain together. He would have then returned the necklace without worry while the Mystery Man held onto the earrings for safe keeping.  He did not expect the man to try and flirt with him and dispose of the large jewels in Hanzo's pocket.

 

When asked, the Mystery Man only said he put them in a place of safekeeping on a man who could walk out of the party without any suspicion on him.  Hanzo rather enjoyed the revelations. He secret was still safe.

 

It was just a shame Genji had to find those jewels.

 

Hanzo’s fingers danced over the lightly varnished wood of the music box, shocked at the plainness of the piece when compared to the other things he had seen at the auction.  Astounded from the plainness of the item Ogunidmu wanted. It did not fit with the rest of the catalog already discussed, leaving Hanzo to assume there was more at play with this item than just some other trinket.

 

Akande would be too preoccupied with the blatantly stolen gemstones to even think about the damn music box. Already, Hanzo could see the seeds of Akande's reach festering in the media.  News reports and ads were claiming that the family wanted the pieces back, no questions asked flooded the television nightly. 

 

This box though was simple. It was an antique valued at hundreds, if not thousands of dollars only for the proximity it had to other items in the estate.  In Hanzo's shop though, it would eventually have been pushed to the far end of a counter and left to rot.

 

Why would Ogundimu request for him to take such an innocuous piece?

 

Hanzo lifted the lid and looked at the small, copper disk inside with small raised nodules. He turned the crank and listened as the soft tinned music began to play.  The disc shifted and spun on its axis as the bar over the top plucked out the sad little melody. 

 

He closed his eyes and listened to the melancholy melody, nearly positive he had heard the song before.  He sat back and let the entire piece play thought slowly, each tiny plink of the keys filling the apartment with more of that sorrowful tune that made him ache within.  A resonance locked away, deep inside his memory that threatened to escape and fill him with more grief. 

 

It burned in his heart.  

 

Slowly, the gears of the box slowed, leaving haunting echoes in the air until the final note vanished and left him in the silence. He carefully closed the lid. 

 

He sat in the stillness of the apartment, trying to cling to that final note of the music box. His heart ached as it grasped to the melody. It felt as if the last note would disappear and with it the haunting feeling as well. It was as if something deep inside his soul needed to hear more.

 

Hanzo tilted his head down and breathed slowly, floating back down into his existence. It was then that the floorboards creaked.  

 

Hanzo’s eyes snapped open. He stood.

 

Something was wrong.

 

__________

 

He lost the element of surprise.  Hanzo understood that as he crept along towards his closed bedroom.  He took long, deep breaths of air, evening out his wildly erratic heartbeat.  He entered the apartment with a ruckus, giving the intruder within all the details about what he had done and where he was seated.

 

He was a fool for letting his guard down, even for a moment.

 

His hands worried along the neck of the baseball bat in his hand. His grip sturdy and tight, ready to attack at a moment’s notice.  He would not be caught unawares in an attack again. Images of the Mystery Man floated into his vision, those first nights in the store, when that man attacked him and beat him, leaving his head aching and bruised.  

 

Never again.

 

Hanzo inched his way slowly across the floor from where he drew the blinds shut, cloaking the apartment in near darkness. He was mindful of his footsteps and not making a sound.  He knew this room better than anyone. He knew where the floor would creak and groan, where the carpet was uneven and shuffled until his back was pressed flat against the exterior wall to his room. The door lay open ajar, 

 

His grip tightened as his teeth gritted.  At any moment the intruder just beyond would swing the door open wide.  He would attack Hanzo. Hanzo would be ready. It wouldn’t be like before, down in his shop. He stood still, ready for the door to swing open at any moment.

 

Only it did not open.

 

Hanzo craned his neck. The door lay ajar, granting him the barest sliver of vision inside his room, but that was all he needed, just a slight advantage over the beast that broke in. He took a deep breath and readied himself, listening for movements from within.  

 

The trespasser was intelligent enough to not turn on the lights, leaving Hanzo’s room cloaked in darkness except for the bare sliver of light that escaped from the corners of Hanzo’s pulled curtains against the back wall. It was enough light for Hanzo though, allowing him the barest outline of the man inside, his tall, bulky frame covering the open closet.  

 

The man let out a low grunt of disapproval and threw whatever it was in his hands to the floor, onto the pile he constructed of Hanzo’s clothes before reaching in and grabbing another and another. Each one was quickly inspected before thrown forcibly down with another inaudible curse. 

 

Hanzo’s grip tightened on the bat as the metal hangers screamed out against the metal rod within, clanking against each other loudly as another piece was yanked down without care.  The invader was in a panic as he tried to finish his mission before Hanzo caught him. 

 

Hanzo nudged the door with his foot, grateful that he had recently taken care of the old hinges on his own. The door swung in without a sound. The intruder crouched down on the ground, haphazardly throwing behind him the things that lived at the bottom of Hanzo’s closet. He let out a grunt of frustration as a shoe bounced off the back wall, utterly unaware of Hanzo’s presence in the room.

 

Hanzo took stock of the ransacked bedroom.  On his bed lay his old tuxedo, neatly placed out along with every other suit coat he had along with his bags and backpacks. From there, the chaos rippled out as the intruder became more and more panicked. Strewn everywhere were he clothes.  There wasn’t a free space on his floor where he could step without touching something. 

 

Hanzo glided forward, bringing the bat up and over his shoulder as his body hunched down, ready to attack. 

 

The intruder stopped. His head quirked to the side before he rose up to his full height. The light from the window caught on the reflective dark glass of his visor and the electric green antenna. He turned and stopped as his vision fell on Hanzo.  In his silver hands lay the dragons.

 

Hanzo trembled, his eyes set on the box in front of him. “Who are you?” He snarled, pointing the tip of the bat at the Sentai Warrior.

 

The blank mask gazed back at him; his head tilted slightly to the side without answering.  

 

Hanzo felt the bile rise in his throat as the creature took a step closer. He raised the bat up high over his shoulder, ready to strike. The Sentai Warrior took a small step back. His head tilted to the other side as he examined Hanzo slowly.

 

Finally, the masked man spoke, his voice thick and distorted. “I am-” The Sentai Warrior took a quick step forward.

 

CRACK.

 

The vibrations of the bat numbed Hanzo’s hands the moment the wood made contact with the metal body of the Sentai Warrior’s arm.  The green intruder stumbled back, the box scattering along the floor with a sickening crack of its own. 

 

“Why are you here?”  Hanzo demanded again, his voice shaking as he raised up the bat again.

 

“You were at the manor house!”  The Sentai Warrior shouted, raising both his arms up as the bat came down again, swinging wide to hit his ribs.  He was quicker than Hanzo, blocking the aim for his side “I saw you there! The Mystery Man-” He could not get out another word before the bat came down over the top of his head, like a sword crashing down onto his shoulders. The Sentai Warrior howled in pain, dropping down onto a knee.

 

“Why are you here?” Hanzo demanded again. He trembled as the Sentai Warrior rolled his shoulder as if the blow meant nothing to him and caused him no pain.  He swung again.

 

The Warrior caught the next blow in his hands, gripping the bat tightly so Hanzo could not pull away.  He rose once again his full height, looming over Hanzo as he stepped forward. He squeezed. The wood shattered and splintered in his powerful hand.  “I saw you at the manor that night,” The bat wretched from Hanzo’s hands. The Sentai Warrior threw it behind him and let it clatter to the floor uselessly as he continued.  “The Mystery Man put something in your pocket. I came to reclaim it before that man comes back here and harms you. I am giving it back to the rightful owner.”

 

Hanzo pressed his back against the door. His eyes widened as he looked into the reflective black visor and saw only his fear. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 

“I saw it,” The Sentai Warrior stepped forward, his voice booming as Hanzo pressed himself further into the wood of the door.  “I saw him put something into your pocket.”

 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,”  Hanzo repeated as he shook his head. “I don’t-”

 

“Where are they, Hanzo?” The Sentai Warrior demanded. “I know you have them, where are they?!”

 

The front door crashed open. The Sentai Warrior turned to watch as four police officers swarmed the apartment in full gear, their guns drawn out and pointed at the Warrior’s chest. They exchanged confused glances as another officer stepped forward, her weapon trained at the center of the Sentai Warrior’s chest.  “Don’t move! What is the meaning of this?”

 

Hanzo raised his hands as he pressed back into the door. “I-” He started before the Sentai Warrior cut him off.

 

“This man is in possession of stolen goods. I came to get them and return them to their rightful owner,” He said with all the arrogance of a man beloved by the authorities. The Sentai Warrior took a step back from Hanzo as one of the officers flipped on the lights, bathing the apartment in soft yellow light.

 

The other officers slowly lowered their weapons. The woman was the first to speak, her gun stayed charged in her hands. “You suspect this man of being a thief?”

 

Hanzo’s eyes moved back to the cold stare of the Sentai Warrior as dread settled inside his gut. He had been so careful, hadn’t he? Covered all of his tracks that lead from him being a thief, no one knew. No one except Akande, but he was using Hanzo for his whims, sending Hanzo to jail did nothing for his amusement. He swallowed and looked back into his bedroom, where in the darkness, the contents of his lift were spread out for the world to see.

 

He once heard that omnics could distinguish one human from another with just the rhythm of their heartbeat. He looked at the impassible face before him and wondered if that statement was true. His hands twisted in his lap as he tried to calm his erratic heartbeat.

 

The officer in charge motioned for Hanzo to move. She maneuvered him until he sat on his couch and stood between him and the Sentai Warrior, a cold resolve on her face. 

 

The Sentai Warrior stepped into the living room, his hands still raised as he looked over at the other officers. “He has the Gentle Prayer,” he stated. “He was at the Montgomery auction, and I saw the earrings in his pocket.”

 

The officer’s gazes fell onto Hanzo. He felt his insides twisting into knots as they slowly looked him over.  Hanzo felt his blood run cold as the officers began to fan out, surrounding him even more thoroughly.

 

“Whatever you found here is inadmissible in a court of law,”  The woman stood firm like a brick wall. She squared her shoulders as she holstered her weapon as she spoke.  “You acted without a warrant. No,” The woman took a step towards the Sentai Warrior. He stepped back. “You couldn’t act with a warrant, as you are not an officer of the law. You have not taken an oath to protect the city as we have. Instead, you fly by your own rules.”

 

“I-” The Sentai Warrior started.

 

“You are just another man in a silly costume who thinks that truth and justice are concepts you can distinguish because your moral compass is better than all others. You are a fraud.” She hissed. She reached inside her belt and removed the handcuffs from within.  

 

The Sentai Warrior stepped back again.  “Wait-”

 

“Sentai Warrior you-”

 

“No!”  The Warrior jumped back, cutting off officer as she began to stated his rights. “No, I did-Hanzo!” He turned, pleading to the man on the couch, almost imploring them to stop.  Hanzo looked down. It was best to remain silent. Anything he said could be used against him.

 

The officer stepped forward, undeterred as two more officers blocked the exit.  She continued to read him his rights, even as he shouted over the top of her.

 

“This isn’t- Hanzo!, Please!” The Warrior moved left, towards Hanzo.  The officer’s gaze went cold as the Sentai Warrior stepped forward. She followed his movements, blocking Hanzo away from his assaulter.  

 

Hanzo watched as the panic set into the other, his body hunched as he turned to flee and found only more officers in his path.  Each time, he called out to Hanzo, as if they knew each other. As if Hanzo would feign forgiveness and this would all turn into a misunderstanding.  He wondered how many times this man had gotten away with it. Hanzo curled his arms around himself and shuttered, his eyes fixed on the man in his apartment that kept pleading for mercy.

 

The officer drew out her taser and leveled it.  “Stop,” She ordered.

 

The Sentai Warrior turned and barreled towards the window.  Hanzo threw his arms over his head at the last second as glass shattered around them, and then silence.

 

The officers at the door turned and ran down the stairs with weapons drawn again as the woman in charge barked out more orders into her radio. In the distance, he heard the scuffling of feet and the wail of sirens as they disappeared into the depths of the city.  Hanzo stayed silent and covered until he felt her hand descend onto his shoulder. “Sir,” She called, her voice sounded distant. Hanzo looked up at her slowly. “Do you have someone you want for us to call?”

 

He gave a short nod, “Please.”

 

_________

 

The mask made a loud crack as it hit the back wall and tumbled down onto the wood floor. Genji collapsed, pulling his knees to his chest as he panted loudly for air. It was so wrong. It was not meant to happen that way. None of that was supposed to happen.

 

He pulled his knees up to his face and let out a loud, raking sob that shuttered through his whole body.  Hana had taken Hanzo out. It was supposed to be hours before he returned to give him just enough time to go in and take those earrings and give them to Akande.  Hana did not need to know. Hanzo did not need to know. Genji just needed to clean up this whole mess before it became it became worse for Hanzo. He had to fix everything nice and neat.  Hanzo would have been grateful. Akande would have been thankful. He could have then just found the Mystery Man and convinced him to turn it in. It should have been easy.

 

Why were the earrings gone?

 

They should have still been in the pocket. It was where Hanzo was keeping them.  Instead, he found nothing but an empty suit. He checked all his pockets then, thinking maybe he grabbed the wrong jacket. Then his bags. He checked the store and the safe and everywhere else until finally he was left to tear the place apart.  

 

Akande wasn’t a fool; he knew the Sentai Warrior saw someone with the jewels, it only stood to reason that it would eventually lead back to his brother. Genji had to protect him.

 

And then the police came.  The police turned their weapons against the Sentai Warrior. They had treated him like he was the villain.  And why shouldn't they? He broke into Hanzo house. He assaulted his brother, just like that vigilante before him.  God, he scared his brother into thinking he would harm him.

 

Genji’s fists clenched tighter around the metallic suit, pulling at the alloy and mesh as if it were to blame for this whole mess and not himself, wanting it off of his body. The Sentai Warrior was to blame for all of this.  

 

He had run like a coward.  He fled the scene the moment things turned on him, just like he always did and now…

 

What if the police followed him? What if they came to the monastery and-

 

“Genji?”  He looked up as he heard the soft knock on his door and Zenyatta’s equally soft voice through the wood.  “I heard you come in. Are you unwell?” 

 

Genji buried his face in his knees to keep from sobbing out. He bit hard against his lower lip and nodded.  “F-Fine,” He cried out, his voice warbling and wet.

 

Silence followed. A silence that did not mean the omnic monk had left, but instead that he stood just outside his door with a hand silently placed on the wood, waiting for Genji’s permission to enter. He waited for Zenyatta to question him again, and it never came. 

 

Genji wiped his eyes with a shaking hand and forced a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry I-”  His lower lip trembled. His hands shook. He was not fine. He hurt his brother. “I-” He could lie, it was so easy to let those little lies pass through his lips, say he was fine and write it off with a smile.  “I-” He crumbled.

 

The door creaked open and then shut as Genji curled tighter around himself. Strong, lithe arms enveloped around his shoulders and pulled him near.  He curled himself around the other and let out another shaking breath as tender fingers worked their way through his hair and down his back without a word until he felt himself grow heavy in the other’s arms.

 

“Zen-”

 

“Do not talk, Genji,” Zenyatta stated. “Not until you are ready.”

 

“I messed up,” He buried his head against the soft wires entangled in Zenyatta’s neck and let out another long, low breath.  “I messed up so bad. I-”

 

“You are safe, my friend,”  Zenyatta stated, his voice firm. Genji felt himself relax farther into the embrace. His arms curled around the other’s thin waist and held onto him as Zenyatta continued to run his fingers along his ears and neck while words of comfort surrounded him.

 

“I hurt my brother,” Genji stated at last.

 

“No, you didn’t.” Zenyatta countered.  “You merely startled him. He is well and safe.”  

 

“How-”

 

“Do not trouble yourself with how I know,” Zenyatta leaned back and looked down into Genji’s face.  His thumb traced along the line of Genji’s cheek, wiping away the wetness from his eyes. “Are you unharmed?” He asked in the same quiet tone.

 

Genji nodded his body ached all over.  He did not know if it was from the impact of the bat or his body's exhaustion that made him feel that way. It did not matter; he felt a heavy lead weight in his soul.  He sat back and looked down at himself, still clad in the vibrant green and grey mesh of the Sentai Warrior suit. His helmet lay in a forgotten corner of the room, below the cracked wall where he had tossed it before.  “I-” He started, trying to find a suitable explanation.

 

“I know, Genji,” Zenyatta stated. “I’ve known for a while.”

 

“How?”

 

Zenyatta chuckled and pulled Genji back into his waiting arms.  “It was easy if you knew what to look for,” His hand came to rest over the center of Genji’s chest, feeling the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.  “You are the same man regardless of what you wear.”

 

He didn't know why he did it, it just felt right, wrapping his arms slowly around the back of Zenyatta's head and pulled him down and pressed his lips tenderly against the seam of Zenyatta’s faceplate. Slowly, his lips traveled across his chin and pulled the other down onto the floor until they rested together side by side.

 

His eyes and head felt heavy as his lips softly traveled over the monk’s faceplate, trailing light kisses wherever he could. His hands roamed along his back, feeling the ridges of Zenyatta's spine and the soft wires that lay just under the surface. He felt warm against his fingers.

 

“Mm sorry,” Genji mumbled, his fingers felt the thrumming of his body beat against his hands.  

 

“Why are you sorry?” Zenyatta’s voice was low as his hands mimicked Genji’s own, delicately brushing against the nodules of Genji’s spine. He nuzzled against Genji, drawing in the sweet, tender kisses.

 

“I…”  Genji’s voice broke.  He was sorry for lying to everyone. Sorry for running away every time something became difficult. Sorry for acting like a child when he should have been a man.  He shook his head and blinked slowly, watching the lights on Zenyatta’s forehead slowly blink with a slow cadence until Genji’s breath matched it. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

 

Zenyatta’s hands rested against his hips. He let out a soft sigh and pulled Genji in closer until their legs entangled.  Genji could feel the warmth of the other through the mesh of his suit. “You didn’t need permission to do that,” Zenyatta stated.  “I gladly welcomed it.”

 

Zenyatta’s head tilted to the side as Genji’s lips moved slowly across the plains of his chin and down the side of his neck. Zenyatta let out a small, pleased chirp as Genji moved, letting his hands grasp at his back as he pulled Genji closer still.  He rolled his hips, grinding himself into Genji's and moaned. 

 

Genji gasped, his grip tightening as electricity shot up his spine at the contact. Even though his clothes, he could feel the hardness of Zenyatta's cock pressing against his awakening arousal.  

 

Zenyatta's hands moved slowly across the plains of Genji's body, tracing the lines of his suit with his nimble fingers.  Genji nuzzled against his chin and jaw. He leaned into every gentle caress, his body craving that touch.

 

Carefully, Zenyatta peeled away the layers of the armor surrounding Genji's body before pulling the warrior back into his waiting arms. "Is this all right, Genji?" He asked, letting his fingers travel down against the line of his hip bone.

 

Genji nodded. He settled himself against Zenyatta again. Slowly, he rolled his hips against Zenyatta's. His lips moved over the nodules of Zenyatta's neck,  “Is this all right?” he pressed his lips against the line of wires that connected to Zenyatta’s throat and listened to the chirping moans. Genji's hands traveled up the back of the other’s shirt and pressed into the divots of his back, fingers brushing tenderly against the wires within.

 

Zenyatta arched into him.  “W-why wouldn’t it be?” His voice stumbled as his hands flexed against Genji’s back. “Oh,” He gasped and arched into him, his body shifting to rock his hips slowly against Genji’s as they fell into a rhythm. He 

 

“You are a monk,” Genji mumbled. His mouth roamed over a small nodule. His tongue flicked out, pulling another heated gasp from the omnic. “Is this allowed?” He felt emboldened as Zenyatta arched his back, his sensors whirring deep inside his frame as he continued to roll his hips against Genji’s own rhythmically. "Are you sure this is allowed?"

 

“Don’t stop,” Zenyatta breathed. 

 

"I won't,"  Genji’s hands worked their way around to his front. His hands splayed against the warm metal. His mouth traveled down Zenyatta’s front, kissing along the exposed seams and nodes. His head swam as he kissed deeper, pulling more of those sweet noises from the other.  “Zen,” he groaned as his hands moved down to the other’s hips, pulling the loose pants down over his slender hips and exposing the long, silicon cock.

 

Genji thrust his hips upward against Zenyatta’s, pressing his hard cock against Zenyatta's as he wrapped his hand around them both. He slowly began to stoke. 

 

It felt so right to feel Zenyatta's pulsating member against his own. “I’m close,” He whispered.  

 

Zenyatta nodded, his chirping moans edging Genji on as his own hands covered Genji's and began to stroke as well. Genji's lips moved up again, pressing hot, needy kisses against his face as he shivered. “Zen,” he whined.

 

“Genji,” Zenyatta's other hand tangled into Genji's hair, his fingers twisting around and pulling as he canted his hips forward, thrusting harder against Genji. The lights of his array flashed from blue to gold, bathing him in the warmth of the light.

 

Genji felt his toes tingle as the heat burned inside him.  He cried out as his body quivered as the first wave of the orgasm rippled through his body with Zenyatta's name on his lips. He curled his hand against Zenyatta's and stroked.

 

Zenyatta chirped. His hands flexed as Genji stroked him still until his back quaked and he curled up, nuzzling against him. "Genji," Zenyatta sobbed out as he vibrated against the other. His body rocked against Genji's lightly, calling out the other's name over and over again. 

 

Slowly, the omnic's hand loosened in his hair and absentmindedly stroked against the sweaty locks. Zenyatta let out a soft hum. Genji felt himself grow heavy again in his arms. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep, curled against the other's warm body. 

 

_______

  
  


“Now is the time for action,” Akande’s voice rang out to the crowd gathered in front of the stage. He paused as the cheer echoed, waiting for it to simmer down before he continued.  “For everyone here today, this city is more than just our home. It is our lifeblood; our legacy. And what do we have to show for it? A corrupt, crippled police force, built on the deceit of others? A mayor who sits atop his high tower and watches while we all wallow in the filth and muck? Look around you, look at what we have become.”

 

Hanzo stood still, clutching to the music box that lay inside his jacket.  He had come to make a trade, earning himself a little extra time to gather the next pieces Ogundimu wanted, only to find the elaborate outdoors stage set up in front of the building. Large television screens enhanced the man’s face as he addressed the crowd like a king to her servants while below him sat dozens of reporters, all clinging to every word he spoke. The cheering crowd turn to one another and nod, almost in unison. 

 

Hanzo took a step back, blending deeper into the crowd. He had to remain hidden away as he listened to the words pouring from the diabolical man before him.  Akande did not seem to notice him as his eyes, and broad smile scanned the growing crowd, dressed in a white suit coat and black, pressed trousers. Next to him stood his pale assistant, looking every bit as apathetic as she always appeared. 

 

“Men,” Akande continued.  “Cowardly men who wear masks to hide their true identities have taken over this city once again, all in the name of peace.  But what kind of peace have they brought us? Nothing but more thievery and anger and mistrust. How are we any different from before? They show up and call themselves heroes, but who among you have called them that first?  Why do we listen to these men that create these alter egos without once ever revealing their true nature?

 

“Our city is being held hostage. The police as doing nothing to stop these domestic terrorists, and now the omnics have taken it upon themselves to decide who is and who is not a threat.” Another loud cheer rang up from the crowd as banners waved.  Akande stood up straight as he surveyed the crowd again, lording over the common citizens like he was the savior of the world. “What we need is a leader. A strong leader who will not let men like the Sentai Warrior break into our private citizen’s homes and attack them. A man who will whip the police force into action instead of reaction. A man like me.”

 

The crowd exploded with enthusiastic cries and applause.  Hanzo felt himself reeling back, his stomach twisting as he watched the man step away from the microphone and turn to shake hands with one of the many businessmen behind him before he turned to the camera and the lights began to flash wildly.

 

Behind him stood his stoic assistant, dressed smartly in a pressed black pantsuit.  Hanzo frowned as he watched as she pulled at the rolled cuffs, twisting her wrist to look at the gold chain that dangled delicately off her dainty wrist.  The spider broach was still fastened to her lapel, looking awkward against the suit instead of the designer dresses she usually wore.

 

Hanzo frowned as he watched.  Her gaze lingered off the stage to her left, her chin held high.  Slowly, she took a step back and straightened her shoulders, like a dancer waiting for her cue. He could almost imagine the spotlight overhead, directed at her as she remained on the empty stage.

 

The crowd moved as one, gathering closer and closer to Akande as he traveled down the steps of the stage. He knelt down to shake hands with some of the individuals that gathered close. Akande's gaze turned to the woman behind him once, giving her a brief nod before he turned back to the people in front of him in earnest.

 

The woman stood still like a statue.  Her eyes were alive though, bright amber as they traveled across the floor while no other part of her moved. Something crept along the stage. A glimpse of something smokey grey billowed across her feet. Still, her body stayed posed, like she was listening to her boss's words and not watching whatever it was on the floor in front of her.

 

“What is that?” Hanzo heard a woman near him mutter to the man nearest to her. He pressed forward, his eyes traveling down to the edge of the stage. Black tendrils of smoke wafted off the side.  It lapped and licked at the banners around before dissipating into nothingness, retreating up onto the stage as enough people around him began to murmur and point. 

 

The simple chatter became a giant roar in his ears.

A low, cruel laugh crackled through the speakers, seemingly coming from everywhere and no where at once. The smoke seemed to move thicker now, across the stage. Akande turned around slowly, just as the smoke congealed and lifted off the stage like the devil himself rising from Hell, in the form of a black wraithlike man. “Foolish ingrate,”  The shadow croaked out, voice full of gravel and dust as it continued to solidify into an oozing smokey mess. “Do you think you can stop us?”

 

Like a bullet, the shadow attacked, turning back into a wave of smoke as it leaped forward, whipping around Akande faster than Hanzo’s eyes could process.  Akande's hands went up as he stumbled back, punching out against the air and connecting with nothing as the shadow moved around him like water. He twisted to the side just as the shadow pierced through, catching the white suit coat and tearing a long hole into the fabric. The creature laughed again, amused by its own antics.

 

Someone in the crowd screamed. Collectively, they pressed forward, watching the elaborate display. Akande countered every attack the shadow made, dodging and weaving with every jab and kick. Hanzo was entranced, watching their every move, so perfectly choreographed. 

 

A dance.

 

The assistant stood still, her body almost frozen as those cold eyes followed every movement until they passed by her.  She leaped across the stage, whirling on her toes. She brought up one elegant, long leg down into the smoke monster, bursting it into nothingness once again, only to reform behind her.

 

“Look out!” Someone cried. The woman turned, dropping down to sweep out her leg as the smoke monster’s dry cackling laugh rang out among the crowd again.

 

A performance, Hanzo’s mind reeled as he watched again as Akande’s fists barely missed the man in the smoke again and again.  All around him the crowd cheered them on every time the smoke monster stumbled back a fraction. It was a dance, a choreographed piece meant to entertain the crowd. Hanzo watched in awe as the reporters scrambled to get their cameras closer to the action and almost in the line of danger.  Almost. Above them, on the giant screens for the whole world to see was the wraith, screaming out with every failed attempt to take down the large imposing man in front of him. "How dare you," The phantom hissed.

 

The assistant let out a loud cry as the man made of smoke reached out a long, taloned hand and caught her by the ankle, throwing her down onto the stage with a sickening thud. Hanzo gasped and leaned forward with the crowd.

 

The monster let out another cackle as it stood over the woman’s prone body. Slowly it raised a single, taloned claw over his head, ready to plunge its claws deep into her body.  The cameras pulled in close. On the monitors above he watched as Akande stumbled forward, blood dripping down his arm as he let out a victorious cry and charged at the monster. 

 

His assistant gasped. Her eyes wide as she held both her arms crossed over her face.  She flinched away as the taloned claw came down. The same instant, Akande’s larger body slammed into the monster, and everything went white.

 

The crowd screamed as a flash of light exploded from the impact, forcing them all to turn away. It felt like it sucked all the air from his lungs. Hanzo gasped loudly and shielded himself with his coat as he blinked away the stars that danced in front of his vision.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Akande let out a breathy plea as the light faded from his sight, “Please remain calm.”

 

Hanzo looked up to the stage again. The monster had disappeared just as quickly as it came, leaving Akande and his assistant alone. His arm draped around her middle, carefully holding the frail-looking woman to his side. Her head lolled around as she held onto him, looking just like a beautiful painting of a damsel in distress.  Her hair had fallen out of the tight, high ponytail and now framed her elegant body. Her legs stood strong and stable beneath her as the rest of her body hung practically like a rag doll in his grasp. 

 

Akande stood victorious over the crowd. He raised a single hand, asking for silence. The masses readily gave it. From below, the police began to swarm around the stage, pushing back the eager reporters and the wanting fans. 

 

Hanzo swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he stepped further back. In his hands, the small box pulsated rapidly, almost begging him to open it here and now. He could feel the heat inside itch against his fingers as it drummed louder and louder.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Akande repeated, setting his assistant upright and moving back to the podium. He gripped it tightly in both hands as if the effort to stay upright was a feat among itself.  He panted loudly, standing up straight to his full height. “We cannot let these masked men win. We cannot let them overtake our city and harm our way of life. We must fight back. Who will join me?”

 

Riotous applause followed the man as he the police clustered around him, pulling him off the stage in an instant, much to the chagrin of the mob. Carefully, the officers escorted him and his assistant back inside his tower, locking them away from the madness of the world.  

 

In the distance, Hanzo could already hear the wail of the sirens. He looked around him, at the mob of people all happily waving signs, calling for the downfall of the Sentai Warrior. They commanded for Akande to return, the savior of the city.

 

It all feels so...wrong.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friend and roommate, Kepcat, who has been my sounding board for this story and helped me get the plot in order. She also gave me the title. 
> 
> Please, leave kudos or comments if you enjoy this!
> 
> If you really like what I do [Supply Me With Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/W7W857SY)
> 
> special thanks to Muja, for being an amazing supporter! <3<3<3


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